







u' 


f 

»■ 





' 


'i 



: t ' t 









30200 




& 


Library of Concfrose 

Two Copies Received 


AUG 4 1900 


Copyright entry 


SECOND COPY. 


Delivered to 


ORDER DIVISION, 

SEP 10 1900 


Copyright igoo 
by 

Emile A. Palier 
in 
the 

United States 
and 

Great Britain 


All. Rights Reserved 


Z4450: 


CONTENTS 


chapter' 

I. An Unheroic Hero i 

II. Barbara g 

III. In New York iq 

IV. The Struggle Follows 23 

V. Karl’s Visit 27 

VI. Curtis Meets Barbara 31 

VII. The Rake’s Progress 35 

VIII. “Will You Marry Me?’’ 39 

IX. The Two Friends 42 

X. Miss Silverton 47 

XI. Karl’s Second Attempt 50 

XII. The Marriage 57 

XIII. Barbara’s Reflections 63 

XIV. The River 70 

XV. The Interview 76 

XVI. “In Gay Paree ” 79 

XVII. Miss Clayton 85 

XVIII. Reception at the Remingtons 89 

XIX. Some Odd Characters 94 

XX. Eugene St. Denis 106 

XXI. Eugene and May •. 109 

XXII. The Moth and the Candle 114 

XXIII. A Last Opportunity 120 

XXIV. The Letter 127 

XXV. The Answer 131 

XXVI. A Candidate i 37 

XXVII. Defeated 146 

XXVIII. Reunions 150 

iii 


IV 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIX. Curtis’s New Love 154 

XXX. Eugene’s Departure 162 

XXXI. The Cold Shoulder 165 

XXXII. Death of Mrs. Curtis 172 

XXXIII. Mr. Thomas Buck 179 

XXXIV. Eugene’s Story 187 

XXXV. The Sick Man 195 

XXXVI. At the Opera 197 

XXXVII. Engaged 203 

XXXVIII. Barbara’s Discovery 207 

XXXIX. The Revelation 21 1 

XL. May and Eugene 216 

XLI. Another" Tragedy 221 

XLII. Aftermath 226 


SOCIAL SINNERS 


CHAPTER I 

AN UNHEROIC HERO 

Who is it? ’’ asked a strong voice proceeding from 
a room adjoining the parlor in which an elderly woman 
was busying herself dusting. 

It is me — Mrs. McDonald,” answered the woman. 

What time is it, Mrs. McDonald ? ” again asked 
the voice. 

Half past ten,” the woman briefly replied. 

'' Oh, so late, and I have an appointment for eleven 
down town,” muttered the voice angrily. The speaker 
was about to give vent to a few oaths, but remembering 
that there was a “ lady ” in the house the utterances 
became indistinct, although any one hearing them could 
easily understand that they were not of a complimentary 
nature. 

After much coughing and expectorating, as is fre- 
quently the case on getting up with some gentlemen, 


I 


2 


Social Sinners 


especially with those who smoke a great deal and also 
occasionally indulge in drinks that are stronger than 
water, the young man — for it was a young man — arose 
and proceeded to attire himself, not without first — such 
is the force of habit — making several maneuvers with 
his upper and lower extremities to assure himself of the 
integrity of his muscles. 

Frederick Curtis was the young man’s name. He 
had just reached his twenty-fourth birthday and had 
graduated a few weeks previously from a New York 
law school, having before obtained his A. B. from 
Princeton. 

He was tall, of fine, athletic build, with light hair 
and mustaches, clear, quick, blue eyes, rather fleshy 
lips and nose, and had a full face, expressing determi- 
nation and brute force. In college he was an all around 
athlete, very popular with his fellow students, and also 
with the professors, as he was by no means dull in his 
studies. An uncle of his, — he was a scion of a good 
family — was a trustee of the college that he attended, 
and as blood is thicker than water, at the distribution 
of the prizes young Curtis was not forgotten, though 
some malcontents claimed (but what will not malevo- 
lent spirits say?) that the prize should have properly 
been awarded to some one else who was more deserving, 
but had less “ pull.” 

Everything and everybody then seemed to smile on 
Fred Curtis, as he was called by his friends. What 
between the admiration of his fellow students and 
the applause of admiring crowds at the exhibition of his 
physical prowess at intercollegiate contests, he nat- 


An Unheroic Hero 


3 


urally, on the threshold of his life, already considered 
himself an important factor in public life, destined to 
play most important roles in the history of his country. 
All he had to do was to transfer the arena of his activity 
from the base-ball field to the ward, and as by his train- 
ing he was accustomed to tussles and to bitter conten- 
tions for supremacy, there would be only a change of 
scene. Being fully aware of his future prospects, he 
determined to make his mark in the world, and that 
no obstacle should hinder him. 

It goes without saying that such a man will find 
many admirers among certain women in every country, 
and especially in 'a country where manly beauty is an 
ideal, where a woman’s first question about a man is. 

Is he tall ? ” Curtis sought to render himself master 
of the feminine heart, not so much from mischief, but 
to add to his laurels glorious conquests among the fairer 
sex. He would go out sometimes of an evening with 
some of his friends for a flirtation, and they would 
approach every young woman who they thought smiled 
on them. Curtis was the leader in this as in other 
games. 

Once, on the occasion of some college festival, Curtis 
at the head of a party of gay college students invaded 
the Tenderloin ” district in New York, visiting many 
questionable resorts, with their college cry and songs, 
drinking some wine in each house, pouring the rest in 
the pianos and retiring amid a general riot without pay- 
ing. 

But these are pieces of devilry which only evoke a 
smile on the lips even of parents themselves when they 


4 


Social Sinners 


hear of it, and dismiss it with the remark : Let the 
boys amuse themselves ; they are so full of life.” 

At the end of his college days, however, Curtis met 
with an adventure which, began as a pleasantry, turned 
into a serious affair, which already caused him, to say 
the least, great annoyance, and was fated to affect his 
future destiny. This affair was the cause of his anger 
that morning when we saw him get up in ill-humor. 
He had come home rather late the previous night, which 
was a gala night at his athletic club, of which he was an 
important member, and as his studies had been just 
finished, he naturally wished to take it easy for some 
time, “ if it were not on account of that infernal piece 
of stupidity,” as he called it. 

After partaking of a light breakfast and attiring him- 
self in a light suit of clothes, with tan-colored shoes, 
and a soft white hat, for it was a bright June morning 
in the year of our Lord i8 — , and Curtis, though not a 
dude, yet dressed well, he sauntered out from his pri- 
vate boarding-house on West 65th St., for his parents 
lived in the country, and took a car down-town. 

On 26th street he alighted and directed his steps to 
the West side, and on reaching an old, three-story, red 
brick house, with a white front door, and a narrow 
wooden sign, painted with golden letters on a black 
background, placed conspicuously and announcing to 
the public that table board could be obtained there, he 
paused for an instant, then nimbly mounted the stoop 
and pulled the handle of the bell. 

The door was slightly opened and an unkempt head 
of light hair, then the upper part of a yellowish freckled 


An Unheroic Hero 


S 

face protruded itself, and evidently recognizing the 
visitor, the door was thrown wide open, and a gaunt 
young woman, with folded up sleeves, wet, dripping 
hands and arms, and brush in hand — she was inter- 
rupted in the act of scrubbing the hall — was presented 
to view. 

Hello, Maggie ! ” cried Curtis familiarly, who 
wished to be popular with everybody ; “ is Miss Barbara 
Eckert at home ? ” 

“ Yes, Sah,” answered the maid ; “ she is waitin’ in de 
parler.” Having said this, she let him pass, and went 
on her hands and knees, with brush ready for work, 
following him with her eyes, in dog-like fashion, till he 
disappeared in the parlor, the door of which he closed. 

The parlor was not too sumptuously furnished. The 
walls were covered with light-blue paper hangings and 
adorned with a few crayon pictures of elderly people 
of the working class. A carpet that had seen better 
days, an old, heavy, grayish-black, hair-cloth covered 
set of furniture, some bric-a-brac on the mantel, and a 
clock that emitted a peculiar hissing noise when strik- 
ing, completed the furnishings. Between the two front 
windows, under a small looking-glass, stood a white 
marble table, and near it half facing the front window 
sat a young woman of about twenty. She had been 
watching at the front window and on hearing the foot- 
steps of the visitor turned half around. She was a tall, 
compactly built girl, combining strength with supple- 
ness of body. She had a fine, clear complexion, with 
large black eyes, a firm mouth, and a good-sized head, 
firmly posed on a pair of fine shoulders. Her hands. 


6 


Social Sinners 


though lacking the whiteness and fineness of the aristo- 
crat, were shapely and strong. In short, she was a 
handsome woman of the people. 

That morning her eyes were red, for she had been 
crying. As soon as she perceived the visitor, whom she 
had been evidently awaiting, she glanced into his face, 
and apparently not having been greatly reassured by 
what she saw there, quickly lowered her eyes and made 
a scarcely perceptible motion of her head by way of 
greeting. 

The young man, on his side, was not very exuberant 
in demonstrations either, so that the first few moments 
passed in a silence which was uncomfortable to both of 
them. It was finally broken by the man, who, without 
any prelude, brutally began: “ Well, Barbara, have you 
decided to do as I told you ? ” 

Fred,’’ replied the girl in a subdued tone, “ you 
know I can’t.” 

‘‘ What ! you still persist in your nonsense ? ” said 
Frederick, growing angry and excited. “ Do you want 
to ruin me, to thwart all my plans, and destroy my pros- 
pects ? ” 

“Fred, have you not ruined me? Have you not 
blasted my life? and now you wish to make me an ac- 
complice in a crime.” 

“To h with the crime,” hissed he. 

“ Curtis,” began she rather boldly, “ did you not 
promise to marry me ? ” 

“ I never did,” retorted he brutally. “ It was all in 
your imagination ; you took me in by your tricks.” 

This was said in a cold, deliberate tone, and it stung 


An Unheroic Hero 


7 

her to the quick. She turned red in the face, then pale 
and, trembling in all her body, exclaimed : “You are 
a liar ! Beware how you speak to me, for you’ll be sorry 
for what you say ! ” 

Curtis was anything but a coward, and had a man 
pronounced such words in such a tone of voice he would 
have sprung on him like a tiger ; but the woman’s des- 
perate defiance took him unawares and dumfounded 
him. From the habit, however, of resenting insults, he 
quickly got up, doubled his fists and was going to strike. 
But she, like a' true daughter of the people, looked at 
him defiantly and scornfully, and said : “ Go ahead, 
coward ; strike a woman ! Go ahead, strike me ! ” 

He suddenly recollected that he was in a strange 
house with people within easy reach of voice, and to 
strike the woman would mean a scandal with probably 
very disastrous consequences, and he therefore re- 
strained himself just in time from delivering a blow. 
He understood now that he had a hard nut to crack and 
that brute force would be opposed by brute force, and 
as she was the injured party, the case was thereby 
harder still. He therefore bethought himself of making 
practical application of his newly acquired legal train- 
ing by resorting to tactics. He accordingly affected a 
smile, and softening his voice said : “ My dear Barbara, 
you know I meant it only as a joke; of course, I love 
you, and wish to make you happy, and that’s why I 
would like you to do as I bade you to.” 

“ If so, Frederick,” said she half reconciled, “ why 
not marry now ; you promised to after you graduated.” 


8 


Social Sinners 


“ My dear/’ replied he, “ I depend on my father, and 
if I marry against his wish I shall be disinherited.” 

'' We can get married secretly,” suggested she, “ and 
keep it quiet till we can make it public.” 

“ Oh, this would not do,” retorted he, for if it ever 
leaks out we are lost.” 

“ Then,” said she, “ I will wait till you are ready, and 
will go meanwhile to stay with my mother. I will con- 
fess all and beg forgiveness, telling her that you prom- 
ised to do right by me.” 

This was said by her naively, without any intention 
of making a threat. But Curtis was appalled at the 
idea of such a contingency. He knew well the wrath 
of a mother, and that would mean ruin for him. He 
found it therefore expedient to make concessions, and, 
since he could not have all his own way, at least to gain 
some points. After much parleying, he agreed that she 
should go to some private institution and wait till her 
present condition should come to a natural termination, 
and he would support her, and later also the offspring, 
till he would be able to marry. 

Having made this arrangement, he started to go; 
but she was not to see him any more for some time, 
and the prospective separation awakened in her feel- 
ings towards him which she had not felt before, and, 
bursting into tears, she embraced him ardently. But 
he received her demonstration of affection coldly, and 
disengaging himself from her embrace, he quickly left 
the room, and, gaining the street, walked rapidly away. 


CHAPTER II 


BARBARA 

Barbara Eckert was born of German parents in 
New Britain, Conn., and was just rounding up her 
twentieth summer when what we have just related 
came to pass. Her father was a foreman in one of the 
many iron factories in that place. He gave Barbara 
and her younger sister — the only two children he had — 
a common school education, and also hired for them 
a music teacher at the rate of one dollar for three les- 
sons. When Barbara was sixteen years old her father 
died, leaving a small wooden house and a meagre bank 
book. 

Barbara went to work in a mill, but kept aloof from 
her fellow workers. Since childhood she had consid- 
ered herself a lady,” and cared little for the company 
of the working classes. When she had budded into 
womanhood, she became possessed of a strong desire 
for entering the ranks of the wealthy. She looked with 
longing and admiration at the rich young men with 
their fine clothes, easy ways and buoyant spirits, and 
the workingman, with his big, chapped hands, coarse 
voice, and questionable linen during working days, 
was distasteful to her. 

She knew she was handsome, because she was told 
9 


lO 


Social Sinners 


so many times, both while yet a child and when grown 
up; the looking-glass reassured her that people were 
not lying about her good looks. She, of course, had 
many admirers among young men in the lower walks of 
life. The druggist’s clerk around the corner was never 
loath to enter into a little flirtation with her whenever 
she would stop in to buy something. But she would 
have none of these; her aim and ambition were much 
higher ; she desired to become a real lady, riding in her 
own carriage. 

She had an ardent admirer in a youth by the name 
of Karl Schmalzkopf, who was about two years her 
senior. He came to the United States from Germany 
when quite young, and served as an apprentice under 
Barbara’s father. Karl, as he was familiarly called in 
the family, was distantly related to the Eckerts and 
came frequently to partake of a meal, and at the same 
time he would go on errands. Barbara very often made 
use of him in this way. He would execute her orders 
promptly and carefully, first, because he was under ob- 
ligations to her father, and, secondly, for reasons unac- 
countable to him at that time, he found great satisfac- 
tion in serving her. As he was in the condition of a 
dependent, he dared not aspire to equality, and executed 
her mandates with the faithfulness and devotion of a 
canine, not expecting in return from her those tokens 
of recognition which are usual between the opposite 
sexes, but was satisfied with merely picking up the 
crumbs. 

On a winter evening he would watch her sew or read 
from his little corner where he would ensconce himself 


Barbara 


II 


with a book, which he would pick up at random, the 
long words of which would puzzle him and befuddle 
his brain, so that he would invariably fall asleep, the 
book coming down with a thud, which would cause him 
to wake up with a start, pick it up again and make an- 
other useless effort to read, — all of which would cause 
great laughter and amusement to Barbara. She con- 
sidered him of no consequence, and was not at all em- 
barrassed by his presence. 

By the time her father died Karl had finished his 
apprenticeship and was started on ten dollars a week, 
which he considered a very handsome income, and in 
consequence acquired a tinge of pride and vanity. His 
demeanor became more dignified and imposing at the 
widow Eckert’s house, but he was not much bolder and 
more self-possessed with Barbara. Her power over 
him was not diminished, though she addressed him now 
as Mr. Schmalzkopf (a name, by the way, that seemed 
funny to her, and at first made her laugh) instead of 
Karl, as before. He was still a frequent visitor at the 
house, though not so much as when he had been an 
apprentice. 

Barbara at eighteen had grown and developed into a 
handsome young woman, and Karl, now nearly twenty- 
one, had also attained his full growth and development. 
He could not boast much of his appearance. He was 
not tall, was rather heavy, with a sallow complexion, 
high cheek bones, grey eyes, and light hair. Rumor, 
however, coupled his name with that of Barbara. 
Widow Eckert was not displeased with such a rumor, 
and wished it were true, as she liked Karl, whom she 


12 


Social Sinners 


came to regard as her own son, for his honesty and at- 
tachment to her family, and especially to her daughter. 
She even threw out hints to him that if he could get 
the young woman’s consent, she would give them a 
mother’s blessing. 

As to Barbara, she grew more and more dissatisfied 
with her condition. Nearly two years had been spent 
by her in the mill and yet she was not more advanced 
than before. And meanwhile she would read in the 
New York papers of the good luck which fell to the 
lot of some working girls, of rich men falling in love 
with and marrying their employes. She knew several 
such cases by heart, and here she was buried in an 
obscure town with no earthly chance of attaining her 
desire. Was she not so pretty as some of those lucky 
girls? She saw their pictures in the papers, and she 
did not think they were pretty at all. Then she would 
fall into a reverie, picturing to herself her own rich, 
sumptuous wedding and a full description of it, accom- 
panied with her picture, printed in the New York news- 
papers, and read all over the land. One Saturday 
evening, after she had received her week’s meagre 
wages, she was sitting thus musing in the parlor, when 
Karl entered, with a broad, self-complacent smile on his 
face. 

“ Good evening. Miss Barbara,” he said to her boldly 
and with a self-possessed air which he had not evinced 
before. “ How are you gittin’ along? ” 

“ All right, thanks, Mr. Schmalzkopf,” replied she, 
somewhat surprised at his change of manner. 

“ Miss Barbara,” continued he, “ you got to gimme 


Barbara 


13 


a present an’ kongradulate me ’cause it’s my twenty- 
furst birthday, an’ I got to give ye a present ’cause I 
jest got a raise an’ am gittin’ now twelve dollars a 
week, enough to s’pport a family. I jest got two tick- 
ets for the show, will ye come alon’ vid me ? ” And he 
drew forth proudly two 25-cent tickets for some variety 
show which was then temporarily in town. 

In fact it mattered very little, to him what the per- 
formance was, as all theatrical plays seemed alike to 
him. But he heard of young men’s taking their best 
girls to the theatre, and so he decided to take his Bar- 
bara. He bought such tickets, because he saw lots of 
other people buying them. 

It is perhaps needless to say that he was in love with 
this girl. When he was yet a boy, he had feelings 
towards her which he could not define, nor, in fact, 
did he stop to analyze them ; this was beyond his power. 
When, however, he attained manhood, these feelings 
assumed definite forms, and he knew that he loved 
her with the strong and deep affection of which only 
such retiring and unobtrusive natures as his are capable. 
Did she love him? This question hardly entered his 
simple mind. He had waited only till he reached his 
twenty-first birthday, when he thought he had a right 
to consider himself a man, and till he earned his two 
dollars a day, which he thought was a handsome in- 
come, and the possibility of a refusal on her part was 
hardly entertained by him. Why should she refuse 
him? He loved her and already earned so much, with 
good prospects of a still further increase in the near 
future. What girl would refuse such a tempting offer ? 




Social Sinners 


And so he desired on that particular evening, when 
some of his expectations were realized, to propose and to 
be accepted by Barbara, which would make his triumph 
and happiness complete. Before proposing to her he 
decided to take her to some theatre, as he had never 
before gone out with her alone for pleasure, and to 
familiarize himself with her tete-a-tete by spending to- 
gether an agreeable evening, which he expected to wind 
up by offering himself and by being accepted. She 
looked with amusement at his pomposity and awkward- 
ness, which seemed to her so comical that she nearly 
burst out laughing. 

“ No, Karl,” said she, calling him by the first name, 
as she used to do when they were children, because she 
thought him too droll now to be ceremonious with him ; 
“ I don’t care for shows ; better take along your best 
girl.” 

Her calling him by his first name greatly encouraged 
him, and he was nowise abashed by her negative an- 
swer, for he thought it had been done to tease him a 
little and to make him more persistent. 

Me best goel, Barbara?” replied he, imitating her 
example, and calling her by the first name. '' Why, who 
do ye tink is me best goel ? ” 

I am sure I don’t know,” answered she, still greatly 
amused. 

As it often happens that man proposes and God dis- 
poses, so it occurred in this case that Karl was forced 
to come out with his declaration sooner than he had 
anticipated. All at once he became serious, paled con- 
siderably, and said in a tremulous voice: 


Barbara 


15 


Barbara, ye’re me best goel.” 

I ? Oh, you are only fooling — ” replied she in a 
chanting voice and continuing to hum a song. 

Her taunts exasperated him ; he caught her hand in 
both of his, and, holding it tightly, said in a trembling, 
passionate voice : Barbara, ye was always me best 

goel. I’m a man now, I mak good money; be me 
vife ! ” 

As he had delivered himself of this, he was quiver- 
ing in all his body. His limbs shook, and he hardly 
could stand. He was not a man of many words, and 
had had very little to do with women ; it cost him there- 
fore the greatest effort of his life to utter these few 
words into which he put all the fervor and the pent-up 
passion of many years of silence. 

She looked at him in amazement, thinking the poor 
fellow had lost his head. She even forgot to withdraw 
her cramped hand, which he still continued holding 
firmly in both his big, rough ones. 

He mistook her silence as being in his favor, and, 
intoxicated with passion and excitement, he threw his 
arms around her and approached his tobacco-smelling 
mouth to hers. No sooner, however, had he touched 
her lips than quick as a flash she came to her senses, 
repulsed him forcibly and brutally with elbows and fists, 
and pale with rage she exclaimed : “ Get out, brute ! 
What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?” and 
with tears in her eyes she burst out from the room. She 
ran in search of her mother, whom she found busying 
herself in the kitchen. 

Widow Eckert looked at her dear Barbara, dropped 


i6 


Social Sinners 


the soup-ladle — so much struck was she by her child’s 
appearance, and exclaimed in her mother-tongue, as 
she was wont to do when in great excitement : “ Ach, 
mein Gott, was ist los, mein Kind ? ” 

Barbara, with tears in her eyes and a voice hoarse 
with rage and emotion, told her what had happened. 
Her mother, a good old soul, listened attentively, en- 
joining meanwhile her daughter to calm herself, and 
then said : But he did not mean any harm.” 

This enraged the young lady still more. 

“ Mother,” said she passionately, '' do you approve 
that such a nobody, a brute, should make love to me 
and hug me?” 

“ Karl is not a brute and is a good, honest workman, 
and I am sure he will make a good husband, just as 
your father, peace to his soul, was,” said Widow 
Eckert severely. “ It is a shame, Barbara,” continued 
she, to call Karl, whom your dear father so loved, a 
brute.” 

“ So you are also with him and against me — all right, 
then, we’ll see,” retorted the other angrily; then she 
withdrew to her room. 

As to Karl, if the roof of the house had fallen on 
his head he would not have been so stunned as by what 
had just occurred. He was crushed, annihilated by the 
terrific blow which he had received ; it was so sudden, 
so unexpected, and so severe that his faculty of reason- 
ing, never very acute, almost abandoned him now, and 
he stared stupidly around, muttering something to him- 
self. He walked out of the house and wandered aim- 
lessly away. He walked the whole night, hatless, and 


Barbara 


17 


oblivious to his surroundings — the hooting of the 
urchins and the injuries he received by coming in vio- 
lent contact with trees, houses, fences, etc. Thus he 
roamed till day-break, when he found himself on the 
outskirts of the town. The fresh, brisk morning 
breeze brought him out to some extent from his daze, 
and he began to feel the exhaustion. 

He returned mechanically homeward, reached the 
house, gained entrance into his room and, lying down 
on his bed without undressing, fell asleep. 

Barbara retired to her room and, locking the door 
behind her, indulged for some time in a passionate, 
hysterical cry. She was raging against Karl, she was 
angry with her mother for upholding him, and was dis- 
satisfied with her town and, in fact, with the whole 
world. Her mother came in to reason with and console 
her, but this made matters worse, so that the good soul 
withdrew, leaving the girl alone, thinking that the 
night’s rest would allay her child’s excitement. 

As soon as her first outbursts were over, Barbara be- 
gan to plan an escape from home. The idea of running 
away had come to her mind before, and the events of 
that evening confirmed her feeling that New Britain 
was not the proper place for her. Sooner or later she 
would have to quit it; why not now as well as at any 
other time? She knew that her mother would never 
consent to such a step. Would it not be easier now than 
at another time? Thus reasoning, — and enough has 
been said of Barbara to show that she had a will of her 
own and could reason more or less — she decided that 
it was best to fly then and there. 


i8 


Social Sinners 


Accordingly, she gathered a few of her belongings, 
taking as little as possible, and made up a small bundle, 
wrapping it in a paper, and at day-break stealthily left 
the house, and managed, thanks to the quietness of the 
neighborhood where she lived, to gain the depot. There 
she was recognized by a railroad employe, who ex- 
claimed, “ Hello, you here so early? ” 

Going to New Haven to my sick aunt ; just received 
a telegram,” answered she, unhesitatingly, for she had 
prepared herself for such an emergency, and she thus 
set into action at the commencement of her career her 
quick wit, which is peculiar to women, enabling them 
frequently to escape from very tight places gracefully. 
She bought a ticket for New Haven, and on reaching 
that place, bought another one for New York. 


CHAPTER III 


IN NEW YORK 

Barbara reached New York by the Grand Central 
Depot at the busiest hour of the day. Though it was 
Sunday and the traffic was not great, yet the shouting 
of cabmen, Cab ! Cab ! '' who appear to a stranger like 
infernal beings ready to gag you, lift you up bodily and 
put you in their cab to carry you away to a region 
whence there is little chance to return; the halloing 
and fighting of newsboys, who approach you with im- 
pudence, thrust their papers impertinently before your 
very nose, and retire with a greatly injured air as if you 
had robbed them of all their worldly possession if you 
refuse to buy from them a paper ; the screaming of ven- 
ders and peddlers of various kinds ; the barking of dogs, 
the clanging of bells, the hoarse voices of car drivers, 
the rumbling and thundering on the elevated road above 
and surface car below, — all this so overwhelmed the 
new-comer that she thought she had fallen into pande- 
monium. 

Barbara’s heart sank within her, and she shrank back 
afraid to venture out into the street. True, she had not 
expected any friends to meet her on her arrival, but she 
had not pictured to herself such a bedlam where every- 
body and everything seemed so indifferent, cold, and 

^9 


20 


Social Sinners 


even hostile to her. The idea crossed her mind to buy 
a ticket and return home immediately. But she recol- 
lected that her cash was too short for that. Meanwhile 
she noticed that a policeman was looking at her, and she 
feared lest she should be arrested and returned home 
ignominiously as a vagabond. 

She therefore mustered up courage and walked out 
into the street, holding her bundle firmly, for a cabman 
was chasing her, trying to grab her bundle, shouting, 
“ Cab ! Cab ! ” She walked at hazard a few blocks, 
then paused, undecided what to do. She attracted a 
good deal of attention, for people stopped to look at 
her, especially the male portion, who took a fiendish 
delight in scrutinizing her from head to foot and follow- 
ing her with their eyes, as is the custom with some 
gentlemen who happen to meet a pretty young woman. 
Barbara with her country attire and bundle under her 
arm on Sunday naturally excited the curiosity of the 
passers-by to a great extent. She was annoyed and 
felt very uneasy. 

She remembered having read about the Bowery and 
having also seen a play by that name, as a place where 
things can be gotten cheaply. She had never been 
before in New York or, in fact, in any large city, and 
had, therefore, no idea that some streets had an un- 
savory reputation. She decided to find her way to the 
Bowery, hire there a cheap room and then search for 
work. 

She approached a middle-aged woman dressed in 
rustling black silk with a stiff collar, a three-story hat, 
with a big bird stuck in it conspicuously, and brand 


In New York 


21 


new shoes, and asked her the way to the Bowery. The 
w«man was evidently going to church, for she carried 
a fat, gilt-edged little book under her arm. No sooner, 
however, had Barbara pronounced the word Bowery, 
than the woman took to her heels, as if approached by a 
leper. She next addressed the same question to a 
young man, who looked at her with a leer and said, “ It’s 
too early for de Bowery,” and went oif, chuckling to 
himself, apparently highly satisfied with the fine joke. 
Tears stood in her eyes; she was at her wits’ ends to 
account for the strange behavior of the people. She 
finally approached an elderly man, who seemed to her 
to have a kind, fatherly face, and asked him the same 
question. He looked at her pityingly for a few moments, 
shook his head, and said : 

“ You seem to be a stranger, my child. What do you 
want on the Bowery ? That is not the place for you.” 

She had a momentary impulse to confess to him all, 
and to ask his advice ; but she checked herself suddenly, 
being afraid to confide in a stranger. So she answered 
she had an aunt living on the Bowery, mentioning a 
number at random, and this mystical aunt she came to 
see. The gentleman gave her the desired information 
and left. 

When she reached the Bowery, the day was already 
far advanced ; it was a sultry June day ; she was hungry, 
her throat parched, and so tired that she could hardly 
walk. She espied a big sign announcing that lodging 
could be had at fifteen or twenty cents a night. A trav- 
eler in Sahara could not be more overjoyed by the dis- 
covery of an oasis than the young woman was at the 


22 


Social Sinners 


sight of this sign. She mounted laboriously the dingy 
stairs and on beholding a large, dark, squalid room, 
with rows of double bedsteads, and oblong pieces of 
canvas stretched across them, taking the place of a mat- 
tress, a shudder passed through her, as she had never 
seen such a thing before. In an adjoining room cov- 
ered with dust and smoke, on long, dirty, wooden 
benches, were sitting men, some singly, some in 
bunches, and some of them in lines ; some were reading 
a newspaper, some were dozing, with their chins falling 
on their breasts, and some again chattering in whispers. 
Many of them were ragged, unshaven, hideous, with a 
forbidding air. Barbara trembled from fear. A man 
approached her, and on learning what she wanted, told 
her that it was not a place for ladies. 

Sick in body and mind, she retired to continue her 
search. After many fruitless attempts which nearly 
brought her to the verge of despair, she finally secured 
a room in a respectable hotel at fifty cents a night. She 
paid for one night in advance and had just one dollar 
and sixty-five cents left. 

She went to her room, locked the door and, after 
indulging in a good cry, washed her face, found the 
stale piece of bread that she had wrapped up when 
leaving home, broke her fast, and, stretching herself 
on the bed, was soon in the Land of Nod. 


CHAPTER ly 


THE STRUGGLE FOLLOWS 

Barbara got up early the following morning. Her 
first day's hardships, though they dampened her spirit 
and almost crushed out all hope, did not undermine her 
determination to struggle on till the bitter end and to 
conquer or succumb. It was impossible for her to re- 
trace her steps, for she did not wish to cover herself 
with ridicule by returning home and acknowledging 
her defeat. This abstention from returning to the right 
path at the right time because of what people might 
think and say about it, is a moral cowardice peculiar al- 
most to every human being, and has caused the ruin 
and perdition of many a woman as well as man. 

Barbara accordingly left her bundle in the office, to 
be called for, and went in search of a room. It would 
be tiresome to follow her in this occupation. It is 
enough to say that her trials on the second day were 
no less than on the first one. In this place they did not 
want lady boarders," in that, again, the rent was too 
high, or the house did not please. Finally, she secured 
a small room at the rate of one dollar a week. She 
paid one week's rent in advance, and had just sixty-five 
cents left. 

The next question was to secure employment. It is 

23 


24 


Social Sinners 


unnecessary to dwell on this point; everybody knows 
how hard it is, especially for a friendless girl, without 
references. Barbara tried to get a position in a store. 
Days passed by during which she tramped around from 
morning till evening only to return home weary, dis- 
appointed and starved. These are the most trying days 
for a stranger, whether man or woman, coming to a 
large city to seek for work. Those who have a strong 
will, some perseverance and a stroke of good luck suc- 
ceed. Others, again, fail, despite all their efforts. Some 
of the latter, if they are too proud and sensitive to resort 
to questionable means for obtaining subsistence, put 
a violent end to their misery, either by obtaining five 
cents’ worth of carbolic acid in a drug store, or, if they 
lack this amount, they find a way of ending their lives 
gratis; and some of them embrace a career of shame 
and disgrace, which after all leads to the same miserable 
end. 

Now, it so happened that our heroine had the good 
luck to find a landlady with a kind heart, who did not 
put her out after her week’s rent had expired, but in- 
stead sympathized with her and trusted her with rent 
and board, so that she had the possibility of looking for 
work. The landlady also promised her references when 
she would need any. It is hard to say what would 
have happened if she had not found a kind-hearted 
landlady. In all probability her adventures would have 
ended then and there. 

As it was, Barbara found employment in one of the 
large stores on 23rd st., and soon moved to that neigh- 
borhood. Her salary, to commence with, was four dol- 


25 


The Struggle Follows 

lars a week, a little less yet than she used to earn in 
New Britain. Her life was also very monotonous, for 
it is needless to say, one can not enjoy life on such an 
income, which is hardly enough to keep body and soul 
together. 

Barbara was not a flirt as the word is commonly un- 
derstood. She had dignity and was too conscious of the 
power exerted by her sex, attributing too great import- 
ance to the deference in small matters shown by men 
to women in the United States, interpreting it as real 
homage from the stronger to the weaker. Women born 
of foreign parents sometimes carry the notions concern- 
ing the power of their sex to a ridiculous degree, 
imagining that if they wish a thing they have only to 
stretch out their hands to get it, and they are very often 
more deceived than cultured American women who 
know what is hidden under the respects paid them. 

Barbara, therefore, would not stoop to flirt with every 
Tom, Dick and Harry, as done by some girls, but she 
desired to become a “ lady,” and accordingly assumed 
a dignified bearing. She was not of the sly, calculating 
kind either, but a young woman who was aware of her 
beauty, and considered that to marry a handsome, rich 
young man was something due to herself and to the 
exalted station of women in general in the country in 
which she was lucky enough to have been born. She 
would not bury herself in a small town like her parents 
and plod along, living from hand to mouth. Oh, no! 
Her parents were foreigners, but for her to marry a 
man like Karl and live like her parents would be a dis- 
grace to herself and an insult to her sex. In New 


26 


Social Sinners 


York, therefore, as in New Britain, she scornfully re- 
pudiated the advances of the small employes, and as 
her employer happened to be la married man and his 
sons as well as the superintendent wasted their affec- 
tions somewhere else, she kept her own company, and 
after she had been for two months in the metropolis 
there was no material change in her life, except that 
she felt lonelier and more friendless than in New Brit- 
ain, where she had been surrounded by maternal love. 

Yet she cared not to return home, for she had not yet 
accomplished anything, and thus to return would mean 
a defeat, which was odious to her. 


CHAPTER V 

KARLAS VISIT 

For two months Barbara did not write to her mother 
for fear lest she should come to New York and force 
her in one way or another to return home. 

The grief of the mother it is needless to describe ; it 
can be easily imagined. At the end of her two months’ 
stay in the store Barbara got a raise/’ and was earn- 
ing the handsome sum of five dollars a week. She de- 
cided then — probably her increase in salary buoyed up 
her hopes — to write to her mother. The letter was 
brief and as follows: 

Dear Mother : 

Please forgive me for running away from home. 
I don’t like Karl and don’t like New Britain and did 
not like to stay there any longer. I work here in a 
Large Department Store and make good wages. When 
I have lots of money I’ll come home and bring you and 
Sister Kate fine presents. In the next letter I’ll write 
more. Please, mother, could you not send me my new 
silk dress as I hate to spend money now on a silk dress, 
and I have one hanging at home. Hoping that this will 
find you and Kate in good health, I remain. 

Your Loving Daughter, 

“ Barbara.” 


As may be seen, the epistle was not a model of lit- 
27 


28 


Social Sinners 


erary excellence, but the poor mother’s joy on receiving 
it defies all description. 

Karl Schmalzkopf did not entirely recover from the 
crushing disappointment he had received at the hands 
of Barbara. He was not the same ; never very gay, he 
was more depressed still, and aged considerably. Far 
from nursing any feelings of hatred toward the one 
that spurned him, he loved her still more, and would 
have gone to the end of the earth if she only had beck- 
oned him. 

Widow Eckert did not feel strong enough to under- 
take the journey to New York, and she communicated 
the letter to Karl, and it was arranged that he should 
go immediately to see her child and request her in the 
name of the mother to return home. 

He set out for New York the same day. 

It was about 9 a. m. when Karl reached the store in 
which the object of his coming was employed. The 
number of customers was very small, and the young 
women, many of whom worked in the same department 
with Barbara, were just finishing recounting to one 
another their adventures of the preceding evening. A 
stout blonde was just telling a meagre, petite brunette, 
“ He was so tall, dark and handsome, and met me at the 
corner not far from where I live, — and, oh, my! how 
well he dresses I and he insists on taking my arm . . 
when she was interrupted by an awkward hayseed ask- 
ing her, “ Please, where is Miss Barbara? ” 

The blonde and the brunette, both startled, gazed 
critically at the new-comer, and could hardly keep back 
their giggles, so funny did he appear to them. From 


Karl’s Visit 


29 


mischief, however, as they were not far from the young 
woman in quest, they escorted him, amid the stares and 
giggles of the other young ladies, to where she was, 
and saying with a mischievous smile, “ Barbara, here is 
a gent to see you,” they retired to their places. 

The sudden apparition of Karl, the last person in the 
world she expected, and in such a place, nearly struck 
her dumb, so great was her amazement. After the first 
few moments of surprise were over her fury at the in- 
truder knew no limits. Had he called at her house, 
it would not have been so bad ; but to receive publicly 
there such a block-head was worse than death itself to 
her. She knew that the other girls were staring at her, 
and she could not therefore give vent to her rage, and 
stifling it within herself, she said to Karl, who mean- 
while was standing and looking sheepishly at her, in a 
hoarse, angry voice : '' What for have you come here ? 
Who wants you here?” 

Barba,” said he, “ yer mother send me here wid 
news for ye.” 

At the mention of her mother her anger abated some- 
what, for filial feelings had not vanished from her 
breast. 

‘‘ How's mother? ” asked she relaxing her angry tone 
somewhat. 

She's all right, an' wantch ye to come home,” an- 
swered he. 

The second part of his answer made her furious 
again. 

Return home ? No, not now ! ” hissed she between 
her teeth, and, livid with rage, she began to arrange 


30 


Social Sinners 


the goods on her counter, turning her back on him and 
not noticing him any more. He stood there, looking 
very foolish, for some time, then, with tears in his eyes, 
he went away, saying in a low voice, “ Good-by, Bar- 
bara.” 

She did not answer him and looked not at him as he 
retreated. 

The girls noticed the scene and commented on it. As 
soon as he had turned his back, they greeted her with 
a storm of remarks. 

'' Where did you get that hayseed ? ” said one. 

How awfully nice he is ! ” echoed another. 

“ How well dressed ! ” exclaimed a third, and there 
was no end to comments. 

Barbara bit her lips and said nothing. 


CHAPTER VI 


CURTIS MEETS BARBARA 

A LITTLE over a month after the occurrence described 
above, Barbara met Mr. Curtis, who was introduced at 
the commencement of this tale. 

This month was passed by her amid the insinuations 
and taunts of her fellow-workers in the store and in 
seclusion at home, and she was forced to the conclusion 
that New York was not the Promised Land; life there 
became almost unbearable to her. 

It was in the early part of October, at the beginning 
of the college sessions, that Curtis, who had just re- 
turned from the country where he had passed his vaca- 
tion, happened to drop, with a few fellow students, into 
the store where Barbara worked, to make some pur- 
chases, and incidentally to have a little fun with the 
pretty salesladies. They happened to come across this 
young woman, who was in charge of the cuff-buttons 
counter. Her beauty with her dignified, proud bearing 
attracted the attention of the lively coterie. They sud- 
denly recollected that they all were in great need of the 
articles sold by the fair Barbara, and they crowded 
around the counter, jostling one another and joking. 

How many pairs do you need. Curt ? ” said one 

31 


32 Social Sinners 

wag. “ I thought I didn’t need any, but now I need 
lots of them.” 

“ Ah, the buttons are as fair as the seller,” remarked 
Curtis to his friends loud enough for Barbara to hear 
it. 

‘‘ Oh, you won’^ buy any,” said a third one ; you 

only want to look at the pretty saleslady.” 

The young woman hardly deigned to bestow as much 
as a smile on the young gallants. This somewhat pro- 
voked Curtis, and he addressed to her directly the re- 
mark : I intended at first to buy only one pair but from 
your pretty hands I’ll take all I can get,” and he gazed 
at her with that bold somewhat insolent look which 
was peculiar to him when he wished to subdue man or 
woman. 

She indifferently answered him, “ Thanks,” and be- 
gan to arrange the disorder wrought on the counter by 
the buyers. They bought something, paid, and retired 
boisterously, teasing Curtis with his defeat. What is 
the matter with Curtis?” they ejaculated. “He is in 
the soup ! ” was the answer. Curtis felt rather humbled. 
He said to his friends, “ Wait a bit ; the pretty sales- 
girl will soon be in my power.” 

“ All right, show us what you can do, old boy ! ” an- 
swered they. 

Had Barbara been an old, ugly woman, the matter 
would have been treated as a joke and forgotten. But 
she was a pretty girl that few young men would de- 
spise, and aside from a desire to rehabilitate his reputa- 
tion as a conqueror of men and women among his 
friends, he relished the idea of subjugating this haughty 


Curtis Meets Barbara 


33 


beauty who dared defy him in the presence of his 
college mates, and he accordingly resolved to bring her 
under his control. As to consequences, who stops to 
think of them when one has a pleasant adventure at 
hand ? How many men and women recklessly entangle 
themselves in aflfairs which ultimately ruin their lives 
and bring shame and disgrace on themselves and on 
kindred and friends! 

As to Barbara, the lively gang produced not an un- 
favorable impression on her, in spite of the bold and 
rather impudent complimenting, or perhaps thanks, to 
that. Some women have very little regard for the 
timid, shrinking kind of men, who dare not look a 
woman boldly in the face, get confused in her presence 
and look sheepish. 

Curtis, who was evidently the leader of the gang, 
did not flit by without leaving a mark in her mind. She 
would certainly have been unable to define what the 
impression was, for now-a-days people do not fall in 
love at the first meeting, though this might have oc- 
curred in the olden times, to judge from what some 
novelists say; but it happens in the life of almost 
every man and woman that a person of the opposite sex 
at one time or another, crosses his or her path, and 
leaves a deeper impression than any one else. If the 
chain of events is such that the person does not vanish 
away — otherwise, of course, the matter ends speedily, — 
but turns up again and again, the future destiny of 
one or both is affected. 

Barbara could not help noticing Curtis, whose fine, 
athletic figure, clear, bold eye and lively movements. 


34 


Social Sinners 


presented a sharp contrast with the squatty anatomy, 
dull look and awkwardness of Schmalzkopf, who would 
frequently come up to her mind, and whom she would 
compare with other men, to his disadvantage. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE rake's progress 

During the few days following Curtis’s visit Bar- 
bara vaguely thought of him, faintly hoping that he 
might turn up again. 

By the books which the young men carried and by a 
few remarks dropped among themselves incidentally, 
she knew they were students ; by their careless way of 
handling rolls of bills, which they drew out in paying 
for their small purchases, and also by their fine gar- 
ments and easy ways she surmised — and quite correctly 
— that they were supplied with more than the bare 
necessaries of life. What young, and for that matter 
old, lady would not be impressed more or less by such 
young men ? Barbara was naturally so, but she received 
the first advances coldly, because she was proud of her 
beauty, and expected men to stoop to her before she 
would surrender. 

Three days later Curtis called again. As soon as she 
perceived him, she felt her heart beat a little faster, but 
she suppressed all outward signs of any emotion. 

I like so much your buttons,” began he, that I 
came for more.” ^ 

We’ll sell all you want,” answered she. 

. 35 


Social Sinners 


36 

Will you sell all I want? '' queried he, looking her 
boldly in the face. She made no answer to this. 

'' And your friends, don’t they want any more but- 
tons ? ” asked she. 

“ My friends ? ” said Curtis, why, what do you care 
about my friends when I am here ! ” 

It is just the same to me,” retorted she, who 
comes here to buy goods; everybody is treated alike.” 

“ But it is not the same to me who sells the goods,” 
remarked he ; “ I would not care to buy from anybody 
but you.” 

Oh, don’t give me such taify,” answered she, as- 
suming an air of injured innocence, such as many 
women can do, when the gentleman is handsome. I 
am on to such tricks, and nobody will fool me.” 

“ I did not come here to fool such a pretty girl, but 
am in earnest.” 

“ Oh, you don’t mean to say that,” said she. 

The conversation continued on this tone for some 
time, till it was imprudent to prolong it any more, for 
other customers appeared, and the overseer cast in her 
direction scrutinizing glances. The other salesgirls, 
whose attention was greatly attracted by Barbara’s en- 
tertainment of a handsome young man, began to make 
comments. He therefore made a small purchase as a 
matter of form, and saying good-by, retired. 

He called again a few days later and asked for an 
appointment outside the store. She at first demurred, 
but he insisted, gave his word of honor that he meant 
no harm and she yielded. 

He took her several times to some of those resorts 


The Rake’s Progress 


37 


called gardens where dancing, acrobatic feats, songs and 
vaudevilles are put up as a pot pourri wherewith many 
civilized people regale themselves. He treated her first 
to slight refreshments, then something heavier was 
partaken of. The conversation between the pair would 
not be highly interesting to an outsider. 

Curtis could speak well of sport, and he also knew 
well his subjects studied at college. But he cared little 
for polished or light literature, so that he could hardly 
be considered an interesting talker in a ladies^ drawing 
room. Barbara’s education was limited to a common 
school curriculum, and her reading consisted mostly of 
the dime novels, unfortunately so much read by people 
of her class. Their conversation was therefore 
commonplace and limited to the most trivial matters. 

Here is a specimen of their colloquy: 

“ That’s a fine song, ” she would say to him on hear- 
ing somebody sing at the garden. 

Oh, very nice, ” would he answer. 

Can you sing this song ? ” she would ask. And he 
would hum something for her. 

Oh, go on, you nasty boy, you are fooling me ! 
You don’t sing it right. ” 

They were not mutually attracted by noble motives, 
to complete each other’s being morally, intellectually 
and physically; but on his part it was simply a desire 
of physical gratification, and on her side it was the 
striving for the realization of an absurd ambition to 
become a “ lady ” ; there was no communion of souls, 
and therefore no great interchange of ideas. 

One night, a few weeks after their acquaintance, he 


Social Sinners 


38 

was escorting her home, both of them in very gay 
spirits, after having enlivened their finer senses with a 
choice performance in one of the roof-gardens and 
indulged their grosser ones in a fine supper, punctuated 
with a few bottles of wine. This experience tempted 
the one to take and the other to permit liberties. Once 
on the danger line, they returned to it again and again 
on succeeding occasions, with the usual result — 
Lothario added another conquest to his list, and 
poor Barbara fell. 


CHAPTER VIII 


WILL YOU MARRY ME 

After Curtis had gratified his vanity, he thought of 
breaking off the adventure, as he did not entertain the 
idea of ever marrying her, for he considered her be- 
neath him socially and intellectually. Besides, he had 
a poor opinion of her virtue, for though he himself 
was the cause of her downfall, yet he reasoned that 
since she had succumbed to him she might also to 
another. As to himself, of course, his conduct was 
heroic, for what kind of a man is he who can not triumph 
over woman ? Is not a coward in war as a rule a 
laggard in love? Do not young men, when they meet, 
boast of their conquests? When women learn of it, 
do they turn their back upon such a man? Oh, no, 
they smile indulgently and say : “ Well, well, he is 
sowing his wild oats, and are not averse at having a 
little flirtation with such a redoubtable man on their 
own account, just to show that they are strong enough 
to withstand such attacks, like brave, good souls ! 

But to return to Curtis. When he would think of 
breaking with Barbara, she would present herself to 
his mind’s eye as he had seen her at their last meeting 
and the many recollections of intimacy would appear 
vividly before his mind, and he would say : “ Well, I 

39 


40 


Social Sinners 


guess ril see her a few times more; there is always 
time to withdraw, let us enjoy a good thing while it 
lasts. ” 

Such thoughts often took possession of him while 
he sat before a book trying hard to study and miss 
an appointment and thus break off with her; but he 
would be compelled to leave his book and run to meet 
her, promising himself each time that it should be the 
last. 

As for Barabara, this new mode of life was full of 
excitement and conflicting emotions of enjoyment and 
regret, as is the case with the woman when she has 
no legal standing. 

Several times she broached the subject of marriage 
to Curtis, but he answered that he was only a student 
and could not think of marrying before he graduated. 

Several months passed by in this way, when Barbara 
noticed a change in herself which fills with joy those 
women who court motherhood, and strikes terror into 
the hearts of those who regard it as a curse. 

After brooding over the matter for some time she 
finally communicated her condition to Curtis. On 
learning this he became grave and serious. 

Meanwhile time flew by fast, and her condition 
aroused suspicion and malevolent comments, so that 
she had to give up her position in the store. It was 
imperative for Curtis to do something, and we saw him 
at the beginning of our tale, get up in the morning in 
the early part of June and go to Barbara’s boarding 
house to dispose definitely of the case. We heard the 
animated altercation between the pair. This was 


^‘Will You Marry Me” 


41 


practically their first quarrel, and at its end Barbara 
felt herself more intimately bound to Curtis than before, 
as some inferior spirits never become more attached 
to another than after they have received a good beating. 
There is a well known saying among the Russian female 
peasants, “ If a man does not lick his wife, he does 
not love her ; or, “ How can a man love his wife when 
he does not beat her ? ” 

We saw that she kissed him passionately, but he was 
far from satisfied with the results, and her embrace 
only irritated him more against her; he left her 
brusquely, leaving enough money to last her for some- 
time, as stinginess was not one of his faults. 

She remained in her seat motionless, her eyes full of 
tears. It was just one year since she had come to New 
York. Her past and future flitted across her mind, 
mingling in one chaos, and causing her to shudder. 
She had a foreboding that her life was irretrievably 
ruined, and felt crushed under the heavy blows of her 
merciless destiny. After sitting thus for some time, 
she got up, went to her room and began packing up her 
few belongings. The same evening she left her board- 
ing house for the institution where she was to remain 
till her condition should come to a natural termination. 

Curtis, when he quitted her, walked aimlessly for 
a short time in great agitation, then he glanced at his 
watch, and remembering that he had another appoint- 
ment in the afternoon, and the time was drawing near, 
he dropped into a restaurant, took a quick lunch, and, 
boarding an uptown car, went to the other rendezvous. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE TWO FRIENDS 

In a sumptuously furnished parlor, in a fine residence 
situated in the fashionable section of New York, two 
young ladies were whiling away their time and 
chatting, touching now on very delicate and intimate 
matters and then, again, passing to most trivial sub- 
jects, with the ease and volubility peculiar to the sex, 
while the scene between Curtis and Barbara, as related 
above, took place in another part of the town. 

'' So you’ll get married in July, ” said one of the 
interlocutors. May Clayton. 

That’s so, ” answered the other, who bore the 
name of Clara Silverton. “ I wished to get married in 
June, as it is so fashionable to get married at that 
time, but Fred has some affairs to attend to. Besides, 
he has studied so hard at College, poor fellow, that he 
needs a rest, and it is such hard work to prepare for 
one’s wedding! Don’t you think, dear, that Fred is 
handsome and lovely?” continued Miss Silverton. 

“ Oh, he is an Apollo ! ” answered her companion 
enthusiastically. “ You are indeed a lucky girl to get 
such a fine young man. Do you love each other very 
much ? 

“ Of course. May, — what a silly question, ” retorted 
42 


The Two Friends 


43 


Miss Silverton somewhat offended. “Why, he tells 
me on his word of honor that he would not exchange 
me for the finest and richest woman in the country. ” 

“ Have you made all the arrangements for the 
wedding?’' asked Miss Clayton. 

“ Yes, dear, everything is ready. You will be of 
course one of the bridesmaids, as we have agreed. I 
have selected all the others as you know. Just after 
the wedding we go for a trip in Europe and when we 
come back Fred will settle to the practice of law, and 
I am sure he will succeed, as he has so many friends. 
Papa will also give us a share in his business. Just 
look at the lovely presents. Are they not too nice for 
anything ! ” And so saying she picked up a fine set of 
sterling silver spoons and forks and held them up ad- 
miringly before the gaze of her friend. 

“ This was sent to us by Mr. Bagton, who deals with 
pa, you know. He was so impatient to send his present 
that he could not wait till the wedding, and here are 
many more, ” added she, picking up and examining 
other articles. 

“ You know I have decided to see Europe, ” said 
Miss Clayton, “ and I hope to meet you somewhere 
across the ocean. ” 

“ We’ll be in Paris probably by October, after 
we are through visiting other places, so we can meet 
there by that time if you go to Paris. ” 

“ Of course, I must see gay Paree, ” said Miss Clay- 
ton, “ and we shall probably meet there. ” 

“But why does not Fred come?” said Miss Silver- 
ton, glancing at her little gold watch and seeing that 


.44 


Social Sinners 


it was already three o’clock. I must tell you, my 
dear, ” continued she, “ I notice Fred is very much dis- 
turbed of late; I don’t know what is the matter with 
him. He tells me it is from great joy and excitement 
over the future, but I don’t see why he should be so 
worried about that. ” 

Oh, there is probably nothing the matter and 
your imagination, Clara, runs away with you. ” 

We women never know what we are going into 
when we are marrying, ” said Miss Silverton pensively. 

“ You are going to marry a handsome young man, 
that’s what you are going, into, silly thing, ” replied 
Miss May gayly and half chidingly. “ Miss Hunch- 
ford and old Miss Greenton will get sick from envy, ” 
continued she. 

While they were thus talking the bell rang, and 
both young ladies started. “ It must be him, ” said 
they in unison. 

‘‘ Good afternoon, Clara, ” said Miss Clayton, feeling 
herself de trop, and preparing to withdraw. 

“ Don’t be in a hurry, ” insisted the other, you 
can stay here. ” 

Meanwhile the subject of the two young women’s 
conversation entered, who was no other than Frederick 
Curtis. He courteously greeted Miss Clayton, then ap- 
proaching Miss Silverton he imprinted a kiss on her 
lips. 

Miss Clayton then withdrew and left the couple 
alone. 

‘‘ I have been waiting so impatiently, ” began she ; 


The Two Friends 


45 

why, it is already past three, and we shall be late for 
our ride. 

'' My dear Clara, ’’ said he, holding her in his arms, 
** I was detained down-town on urgent business. ” 

“ This urgent business of yours makes you come late 
very often; what is the use of getting married at all 
when you begin such things so early ? ” said she half 
angrily, disengaging herself from his embrace. 

My sweet, ” said he in as tender a voice as he could 
master, a poor relative of mine is very sick down- 
town and I went to see her and to do whatever I 
could. ” 

At the same time he embraced her again and kissed 
her. 

At the mention of sickness she relented and grew very 
sympathetic. Everybody, rich and poor, the great and 
the little, are subject to disease, and the sympathies are 
greatly aroused at the mention of it. 

Oh, poor thing ! ” said she feelingly ; Why did 
you not let me know? I will go down and see her, 
and do for her all I can. Let us go there together 
to-morrow. ” 

“ No, my sweet, ’’ replied he somewhat embarrassed 
by her unexpected sally ; '' she — she has been sent away 
already to an — that’s it — to a — sanitarium outside the 
town, where she will be taken good care of. ” 

And he kissed her again to hide his disturbance. 
Oh, dear, ” continued he, “ you can not imagine 
what trouble this caused me. ” 

Yes, I know what this means,” said she, '' I re- 


Social Sinners 


46 

member how we all suffered when our little Willie 
was taken sick with the measles. Then she described 
for his benefit all that was said and done by the 
doctors and everybody else when her little brother was 
attacked with the measles. When she finished, tears 
stood in her eyes, so much did the reminiscence of the 
illness affect her. 

Well, darling, ” he said, let us not talk any more 
of sickness ; let us turn our attention to livelier things. ” 
And they went out for a drive. 


CHAPTER X 


MISS SILVERTON 

Miss Clara Silverton's father was engaged in the 
brewery business, at which he made a handsome 
fortune. He had begun thirty years previously as a 
common laborer, but by thrift and good luck he 
succeeded in rising gradually till he became a partner 
in the business, and later he bought out his former 
employers. He settled a goodly sum for his daughter’s 
marriage portion, and as she was his only daughter a 
great deal more awaited her on his demise. 

Miss Silverton was a tall blonde with ill-defined 
features. Though she was only twenty-two she already 
showed a tendency towards corpulency, which she in- 
herited from her mother, who was stout and short, but 
was lucky enough to inherit from her father the tall 
stature. 

She spent some time at a private academy and finished 
her education at home with private tutors, if a smatter- 
ing of French, and an inkling of arithmetic, geography, 
and music can be called education. Miss Silverton did 
not care to bother her head about scientific and literary 
problems, nor did other social questions keep her awake 
at night. She was not naturally of a passionate tem- 
perament, and was possessed of the good nature and 
stupidity peculiar to some blondes. Her organs of 

47 


48 


Social Sinners 


speech, however, were well developed, and her ready 
tongue seemed to prevent her ideas from ripening, as 
she would unburden herself from them as soon as 
they were conceived, without giving them time for 
development. The Silverton and Curtis families had 
known each other for years, and the friendship between 
the two old gentlemen was quite strong. 

The match in fact, between Clara and Frederick had 
long been a foregone conclusion between the two 
families. Miss Silverton’s dowry and future expecta- 
tions were a strong bait for many a young man, and 
Curtis who wished to play a part in the world, could 
not afford to despise such a prize. 

Clara, on the other hand, considered Curtis a hand- 
some fellow, of good family, with fine prospects, whom 
she liked as much as her negative nature was capable 
of liking anyone. 

The wedding was to have taken place in the early 
part of June, but owing to Curtis’s entanglement 
with Barbara, he offered excuses for its postponement. 

Miss May Clayton, of whom the reader has caught 
a glimpse, and who will appear on the stage again in 
the near future, was the daughter of a Supreme Court 
judge, and was considered a belle in her circle. She 
and Clara were neighbors, and spent some time to- 
gether in the private academy, from which Miss Clayton 
graduated. She was vivacious, full of mischief and 
fun. 

Her svelte, graceful figure, her somewhat retrousse 
nose, and roguish, laughing, dark-blue eyes gave her 
a piquant air, as if saying, Now, get me if you can. ” 


Miss Silverton 


49 


While Curtis and Miss Silverton were out in the 
Park riding, Miss Clayton went in her carriage to her 
dressmaker’s to see her new dress which she was to 
wear that evening at a fashionable reception given by 
one of her millionaire friends before her departure for 
Europe. 


CHAPTER XI 


KARLAS SECOND VISIT 

Let us now for a while return a few months back in 
our story. 

After Karl Schmalzkopf had been so peremptorily 
and unceremoniously dismissed by Barbara when he 
called to see her at the store, the poor fellow, more 
humbled and crushed than ever, returned to New 
Britain, not however to stay there, but to inform Widow 
Eckert of the result of his mission, and to dispose of 
his little affairs and return to New York as soon as 
possible. 

The mother’s sorrow at the refusal of her daughter 
to come home knew no bounds. But as Barbara was 
of age, and was consequently her own mistress, the 
poor mother could do nothing but reliev<e herself by 
a good cry and fervent prayer to God that He might 
change her daughter’s heart and direct her in the 
right path. 

Karl, after having made the necessary arrangements, 
came again to New York with the idea of looking 
there for work, as life without Barbara he considered 
not worth living. 

Two weeks had elapsed since his first visit. This 
time, however, he did not go to the store, as he was 

50 


Karl’s Second Visit 


SI 


not so stupid as not to understand that by going there 
Barbara would be still more irritated against him. He, 
accordingly, waited for her outside of her place of 
employment till she returned from her day’s work. 
When he saw her come out his heart gave a bound, 
and he could hear its beating ; his breath nearly stopped. 
He dared not approach her and talk to her. She did 
not see him. He followed her to her boarding house, 
when she became conscious of somebody observing her, 
as it frequently happens that we turn around when 
somebody is looking at us from behind. 

As soon as she perceived him, she stopped and said 
in an angry voice : “ You are here again, what do you 
want of me anyhow ? ” 

Miss Barbara,” said he in tremulous tones, “ I 
come to look for work in New York. I can’t live 
vidout ye. ” 

So much devotion somewhat disarmed the young 
woman, as it will in fact any woman. But she was 
far from relenting entirely, and said : Look here, Mr. 
Karl, I like you as an honest man and because you 
are a friend of the family, but I will never marry 
you. ” 

Wat have ye got aginst me ? ” queried the poor 
fellow with tears in his eyes. 

** Nothing, Karl, I have got nothing against you, but 
I don’t want you for my husband. Do you under- 
stand ? ” said she, raising somewhat her voice as she 
uttered the last sentence and getting furious at the an- 
noyance to which she was subjected. I don’t want 
you for my husband, and I want you to stop bothering 


52 


Social Sinners 


me any more.’' Saying which she turned her back on 
him and entered the house. 

Poor Karl found his way to his humble lodging, 
dropped in a chair and sat there for hours wondering 
why he was so unfortunate; why Barbara treated him 
so cruelly; why other fellows were so lucky, that they 
proposed and were accepted, and some of those he 
knew had even married in the short time since his un- 
fortunate proposal. 

Early the next morning he went out in search of work, 
not so much that he cared for work as to forget himself. 
For several days he abstained from going to meet her, 
as he greatly feared her rebuke, but he could resist no 
longer. Frequently he would ensconce himself behind 
some corner and watch till she passed, then he would 
follow her at a respectful distance. 

Barbara several times noticed him, but as he would 
always remain far away she thought it best to 
leave him alone, thinking that he would get tired. His 
persistence, however, made her still angrier with him 
and more dissatisfied with her life in New York, and 
therefore when Curtis loomed up he was doubly wel- ‘ 
come. 

One evening in one of his night vigils around Bar- 
bara’s dwelling in the hope of catching a glimpse of her, 
Karl made a discovery by which he was struck no less 
than was Robinson Crusoe when he discovered that 
he was not alone on his island. He noticed a ‘‘ dude ”, 
as he called those who did not belong to the working 
class, hanging around the corner near where Barbara 
lived. Some foreboding made him look closely at this 


Karl's Second Visit 


53 


dude. The latter evidently disliked the stare of 
the uncouth stranger and resented it with a scowl. 
Karl moved away further and watched under cover. 
He soon saw a young woman approach the stranger 
with a smile, and after some greetings they both 
boarded a passing car and disappeared. This incident 
made the whole matter clear to his simple mind, and 
the questions which had beset him since he was re- 
jected were suddenly solved for him. Barbara, — for it 
was she who came to meet the stranger — had a lover, 
therefore she spurned him, Karl, and therefore also she 
ran away from home. 

This discovery gave rise in him to mingled feelings 
of relief and chagrin. He was relieved to learn that he 
failed because there was a previous attachment, and 
thus his amour-propre, which is found to a greater or 
lesser degree in all of us, suffered less. On the other 
hand, he was vexed to learn that another replaced him. 
The more he thought of it, the greater was his anger 
against and hatred for his rival, and after debating the 
matter with himself, he decided to beat off this obnox- 
ious dude. ” He accordingly watched for the op- 
portunity. 

One evening as the ''dude who was Curtis, was 
waiting for Barbara around the corner, Karl stepped 
up to him and looked him squarely into the face. 
Curtis recognized him as the one who had stared at 
him before. 

" What do you want ? ” asked Curtis haughtily. 

" Wot are ye bangin' round here fur ? ” demanded 
Karl. 


54 


Social Sinners 


“ None of your d business, answered Curtis 

with an oath. 

I tell ye keep away from here, ’’ said Karl, coming 
nearer and doubling his fists. 

Quick as a flash shot out Curtis’s right and landed on 
Karl’s jaw. The latter saw a thousand lights dancing 
before his eyes, and also experienced a sinking, sicken- 
ing sensation as he felt himself raised from the ground 
and touching it again, with his lower extremities in 
an upward and then horizontal position. A crowd had 
meanwhile gathered around the combatants. The 
urchins were jeering Karl and urging Curtis to knock 
the stuffins ” out of him. The elder persons were ex- 
amining the situation critically and knowingly with the 
air of connoisseurs. 

Karl who was not a weakling and had had before 
some bouts in his factory with the boys, regained his 
feet, and seeing that he was at a disadvantage at long 
range fighting, rushed at his enemy and stuck to him 
like a bull-dog, scratching and biting.' The spectators, 
who formed a ring around the combatants, cried 
'' foul, ” '' coward, ” “ stop, ” etc., and some of them 
advanced to tear Karl away. But Curtis motioned 
them away and, with a few sledge-hammer blows on 
the head and face of his antagonist, caused the latter 
to release his grip and to fall bleeding on the ground 
to the great delight of the crowd. 

Curtis moved away a few steps with the pride of 
a conquering hero ready for another attack from his 
antagonist. 

Meanwhile Barbara, pale and haggard, appeared on 


Karl’s Second Visit 


55 

the scene. She took in the situation at a glance and 
understood. 

Karl, who was then regaining his feet saw her, and 
was more staggered than by Curtis’s blows. His in- 
terference was not solicited by her, and he was afraid 
that she would hate him still more. With a bleeding 
face, which he wiped with a dirty kerchief, he broke 
through the crowds and ran, the latter jeering and 
throwing stones at him. 

Curtis took Barbara by the arm and led her away. 
The pitiable condition in which she saw her rejected 
iover appealed to her feminine heart, and she began to 
upbraid her accepted lover for having so unmercifully 
chastised his rival. But when Curtis informed her that 
the other was the aggressor her admiration for the 
former and dislike for the latter increased pro- 
portionally. 

Karl nursed his wounds and humiliation for a long 
time, and months had passed before he appeared again 
before the house in which Barbara lived. His love to 
her was after that very often replaced by hatred 
and rage, which filled up his whole being and 
made him suffer cruelly. Had he been of a violent 
temper he might have resorted to homicide or suicide ; 
but his was a peaceful nature, and as he had no other 
mental occupation to distract his thoughts, his suffering 
was acute. After some months had elapsed, he was 
again so much overpowered by a desire to see her that 
he forgot his humiliating defeat and his resolutions 
never again to look at this bad woman, as he would call 
her when overcome by rage, and cautiously approached 


Social Sinners 


S6 

the vicinity of the house in which his love dwelt. This 
was at the time when she was already in the institution. 
A few evenings he spent thus in the surveillance of the 
house, but there was no trace of Barbara. Finally he 
mustered up courage to enter into the house and to 
make inquiries. He was informed that she had left 
the house a week ago, without leaving any address. 

With a sinking heart and bowed head he retraced 
his steps. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE MARRIAGE 

The New York papers wrote short notices of the 
coming marriage of Clara Silverton to Curtis weeks 
in advance. At the approach of this most important 
event whole columns were devoted to the matter. The 
picture of the bride appeared on the first page accom- 
panied with a description in glowing terms of her 
beauty, charms, accomplishments, etc. The smallest 
incidents of her early and later life; the history of the 
courtship; the gown which she was to wear at the 
church ceremony; the bridesmaids with their attire; 
her traveling dress, — all the minutiae, in a word, were 
duly noted and accurately described by intelligent, 
painstaking reporters, some of them graduates from 
Yale and Harvard and thus trained by wise and great 
professors. Not a little space was devoted to the bride- 
groom also. The marriage ceremony was to take place 
in a fashionable church. 

On that memorable day, long before the appointed 
hour, crowds of people blocked the avenues and streets 
around the sanctuary — the men, some of them laugh- 
ing, exchanging vulgar jokes interspersed with oaths, 
and others jostling against one another, cursing and 
fighting; the women, many of them with infants in 

57 


Social Sinners 


58 

their arms, protesting and screaming at being so rudely 
pushed around, and holding on to their places as if 
their dear lives depended on their being there; the 
policemen wielding energetically their clubs and bring- 
ing them frequently in violent contact with heads and 
backs, with admonition, “ Stand back ” ; the mounted 
guards walking their steeds into the crowds to clear 
up space; the drivers blaspheming- and shouting for 
not being able to pass ; and the whole punctuated with 
frequent exclamations of “ Ahs ! ” and “ Ohs ! ” by the 
crowds at the sight of some real or imaginary dis- 
tinguished personage, — all this could be seen and heard 
for blocks around the sanctuary where the momentous 
event of two youngsters getting married was to be 
consummated. 

Finally the news spread as if by magic that the bridal 
cortege was approaching, and a murmur passed through 
the crowds, every individual craning his or her neck, 
pushing and elbowing the way nearer, and some trying 
to break through the thick line of police. 

The bride appeared at last ; she was seated in a closed 
carriage drawn by two horses and was dressed in 
white, with a bunch of flowers in her hand. At the 
sight of her a mighty roar arose from the crowd; 
thousands of tongues got suddenly loose, and thou- 
sands of voices mingled themselves to form a chaos, 
and exclamations of praise or disapproval, comments of 
various kinds, questions and remarks were heard all 
over. As soon as the carriage passed, the resistless 
crowds, like surging waters, broke through the police 
lines, and some rushed to the entrance of the church, 


The Marriage 


59 


and after a desperate hand to hand fight with the police, 
during which oaths, curses, and blasphemies flew fast 
and thick, order was at last established. 

The expenditure on flowers was so great that the 
church was transformed into a large conservatory, as 
Mr. Silverton, in order to give the affair as much 
eclat as possible, spared nothing to attain this end. 
Several great singers, who happened to be then in town, 
were engaged at a handsome sum to appear, and by 
their songs to add charm to the ecclesiastical pro- 
ceedings. 

There were in attendance important personages of 
the civil, military and judiciary departments as well as 
representatives of finance and industry. 

A hundred couples, the relatives and intimate 
acquaintances of both families, were invited to a 
banquet that evening at one of the best hotels in the 
city. After the marriage rites were over, the newly 
married couple left the church and vanished from sight, 
as if ashamed of the act that had just been performed 
and seeking relief in flight, or as if the desire of mutual 
possession were so great and acute that they escaped in 
order to be alone. 

The festivities, however, progressed as if the couple 
were present, and at the banquet the chief speaker was 
Judge Clayton, responding to the toast “ Our Amer- 
ican Institutions, ” whose speech had a far reaching 
object, as will be seen from its main substance, which 
we reproduce here : 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen : 

It is the happiest moment of my life to take part 


6o 


Social Sinners 


in the celebration of the wedding of the only daughter 
of my best friend and our most estimable citizen — Mr. 
Peter Silverton. It is indeed the pride of our free 
American institutions that by perseverance and econ- 
omy one can raise himself to the highest ranks, as 
has been the case with our esteemed citizen whose 
daughter’s happy marriage we are celebrating (Cries 
“Hurrah! for Mr. Silverton”), who by dint of thrift 
and industry is now occupying a place at the head of our 
financial and industrial world, and has been able to 
bring up his daughter on the same level with the 
children of the best families of the land. 

“ This tender offspring of parents of sterling virtues 
has been known to me since childhood, having budded 
before my eyes into beautiful womanhood, and it is the 
supreme happiness of my life to see her wedded to a 
brilliant young man full of promise of a great and 
glorious future (Cries “Three cheers for Curtis!”). 
Though it may be premature and perhaps also out of 
place to discuss the subject here, yet I can not help 
alluding to it — namely, taking into consideration the 
brilliant education and exemplary conduct of the happy 
Benedict, as well as the great support given to the 
party by his estimable father-in-law, Counsellor Fred- 
erick Curtis would be, in my opinion, the ideal nominee 
for Congress at the coming election. (“ Hear, hear! ” 
cried some voices. “ Bet your sweet life, he will be 
nominated and elected!” cried others). 

“ Not wishing, however, to affect your digestion with 
politics, I will conclude my remarks by wishing success 
and happiness to the newly wedded couple, and by 
emptying this cup to the health and prosperity of our 
charming host and hostess, Mr. and Mrs. P. Silverton. ” 

The conclusion of Judge Clayton’s remarks was 
greeted with a storm of applause. The possible nom- 
ination of Curtis for Congress was thrown like a 


The Marriage 6 1 

bombshell into the assembly, and as they were friends, 
it was naturally well received. 

Above the hum and noise caused by the gay banquet- 
ers fragments of conversation between two men could 
be heard. 

Hear sly old fox Clayton talk of sterlin’ virtues 
and exemplary conduct, ” said one, an assemblyman, 
who owned many saloons and a . few . questionable 
houses, and was a relative of Mr. Silverton ; “ since his 
wife died about five years ago he never comes home be- 
fore two in the morning. Last night he stayed till four, 
drinking in my live museum up-toWn. ” 

“ Why, talk of him, '' said the other, an alderman, 
who was in the same line of business as the assembly- 
man ; when he gets a-goin’ wid drink and women he 
is de worst toper of dem all. Once in my place 
he got so nasty I told him to leave the 
place. ^ What ! ' says he, ^ you order me out ! A 
Judge of the Supreme Court ! Wait till ye’re brought 
before me again!’ ‘ Yer Honor,’ says I, H ain’t 
afraid of nobody. I am the leader of my district and 
ain’t afraid of nobody ! ’ He seen he ain’t got de 
right customer and says, ‘ Well, well, old boy, no 
fightin’ between us ; let us have a drink.’ ' All right. 
Judge, ’ says I, ^ I like to see fair play wid everybody. ’ 
He was so full dat night dat he had to be taken home 
in a cab. ” 

Hello, there,” said a jovial young Congressman 
to them, no conspiracies here, come, let us drink to- 
gether, ” and the festivities continued late in the night. 
When Mr. Silverton, full of the exciting events of 


62 


Social Sinners 


the day and of the stimulating effects of the night, re- 
turned late to his house he found a woman with a 
crying infant in her arms sitting on the stoop. 

“ What do you want, my dear woman ? ” asked 
he. 

'' I want to see Curtis, ’’ answered she. 

‘‘ Curtis ? why, he is away ; what do you want with 
him ? Here is something for you and go home, ” said 
he, handing her a coin. 

I don’t want your money, ■’ answered she, pushing 
away his hand. “ I am no beggar, I want to see 
Curtis, I am — . ” 

“ Go home, ” said he angrily, I have no time to 
listen to you. Clear off from here or I’ll call an officer 
and have you locked up, ” and so saying he went into 
the house and locked the door. A few minutes later 
the woman with her babe was gone. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Barbara's reflections 

Barbara wrote to Curtis several letters from her re- 
treat, which were not answered. When she became 
a mother she sent to him the following despatch: 

Greetings from daughter and mother to father. Both 
well. Barbara. " 

The despatch was addressed to the boarding house in 
which Curtis had lived before his marriage, for though 
he had given Barbara at first a fictitious name and ad- 
dress, she soon discovered the real one by coming 
across some letters and cards which he had dropped 
from his pocket, and which she picked up. 

As Curtis passed then most of his time with his 
fiancee, the landlady, thinking the telegram was of 
great importance, directed it to the house of the latter. 

It was delivered to him in her presence. It was just 
a few days before their wedding. Curtis took the tele- 
gram, and, as if having a foreboding from whom it 
came, put it in his pocket without reading it. But Miss 
Silverton, with feminine curiosity, inquired, “ From 
whom is it? Perhaps it is important; why don't you 
read it ? " 

“ Oh, I receive many such, it is nothing, " answered 

63 


Social Sinners 


64 

he, trying to look as calm as possible. '' But just let 
us look at it, persisted she. 

There was no alternative for him but to open the en- 
velope and read the contents. It was Barbara s de- 
spatch mentioned above. There was some agitation 
visible in him despite his desperate efforts to master 
himself. A more penetrating woman would have un- 
derstood all; but Clara’s tongue was developed at the 
expense of her other faculties. 

What is that ? ” asked she in childlike surprise. 

“ That — that is — yes, that is the poor relative I 
spoke to you about some time ago, ” answered he, 
reddening somewhat in his face. “ I told you, ” con- 
tinued he, getting bolder, “ it was nonsense. ” 

Fred, I don’t see how you can call it nonsense, ” 
retorted she in a reproachful tone, “ I am very interest- 
ed in the poor woman. Where is her husband, is he 
dead ? I would like very much to see her and do what 
I can for her. ” 

Leave it to me, dear. I’ll see that she wants nothing ; 
really we can not trouble ourselves about every poor 
wretch in the city. ” 

Thereupon the incident was closed, and on the part 
of Miss Silverton entirely forgotten, and the prepa- 
rations for the wedding went on as before. Curtis 
ignored this despatch as he had done the letters. He 
wished to break off with Barbara, and thought that by 
ignoring her missives it would help his purpose. He 
also hoped that perhaps that country “ jay ” who en- 
gaged in a fight with him might marry her. He 
desired from the bottom of his heart that he should. 


Barbara’s Reflections 


65 

But as for Barbara, the more he ignored her the 
more she thought of him and the more disconsolate did 
she become, and also the more did her love for him 
grow. She had not yet entered into the stage where 
love alternates with hate and feelings of revenge, for 
she had not yet realized the deception practised on her.. 
She imagined that her epistles might have miscarried. 

One morning, about a week after she had become a 
mother and was still convalescing, she picked up a 
newspaper and, after having read a few lines, she 
dropped back in her seat with a painful moan, and lay 
pale and motionless like a corpse. The nurse, who was 
busying herself near by, ran up to her breathless and 
sent a hasty call for the doctor, meanwhile applying 
•such restoratives as she thought best. By the time the 
medical man arrived the patient opened her eyes and 
was staring vacantly around. To all the questions put. 
to her she shook her head in answer. The disciple of 
Hippocrates, who was a young chap with a small Van 
Dyke beard and pointed mustaches, passed in review 
the complications of parturition and decided that Bar- 
bara’s sudden indisposition was due to a blood clot 
in one of her blood vessels, known as venous thrombus, 
as he had heard his professor say in a lecture that it 
might occur in such a condition, and, after having pre- 
scribed something for the patient, he rushed to his 
room and wrote an article on the case, which he im- 
mediately sent for publication to one of the medical 
journals, as he desired to become famous in the pro- 
fession. 

As for Barbara, had her maternity been legitimate, 


66 


Social Sinners 


the shock might have terminated very seriously. But 
it is remarkable how much these poor victims of men's 
perfidy and brutality as well perhaps as of their own 
lack of training, moral weakness, and feeble-minded- 
ness, can brave and withstand when they are in the 
state in which Barbara was! If these poor wretches 
have erred and sinned, the consequent tortures and 
sufferings, which they frequently bear in hiding, with- 
out any helping hand, ought to atone to a great extent 
if not entirely wipe out their fault. And the male 
rascals — if society were rationally constructed — instead 
of being considered gallants and heroes, ought to be 
shunned as pests. If a man steals a loaf of bread, he 
is ostracized by society, but if one ruins a human life, 
the affair is dismissed with a shrug of the shoulders. 
But if such a man should be brought before a human 
tribunal, the accused could justly say to his judges: 
“ Take out the beam from your own eye before looking 
for grains of sand in my own, ” for in all probability 
ninety-nine per cent of the old, grave judges sowed 
their own wild oats in their time. But to return to our 
tale. 

As soon as Barbara recovered a little from her shock, 
she' insisted on leaving the institution the very same 
day, against the strong advice of the doctors. The 
same evening she left her retreat, taking her babe along, 
and set out for the boarding-house in which she knew 
Curtis lived. She reached the place and rang the bell. 
It was answered by Mrs. McDonald in person. It was 
already late in the evening, and the worthy boarding- 


Barbara’s Reflections 67 

house mistress was greatly surprised to see a young 
woman with a bundle in her arms. 

“ What do you want ? asked she in some surprise. 

I 1 want to see Curtis. ’’ 

‘‘What!, Curtis?’’ ejaculated Mrs. McDonald. 
“ What do you want him for? Why, he is just getting 
married to-day. ” 

“ So it is really him that is getting married? ’’gasped 
Barbara, her pale face assuming an earthy hue and her 
features contracted from great suffering. She felt 
her knees bend under her, she began to sway and would 
have fallen had not Mrs. McDonald noticed it and come 
to her assistance. 

Mrs. McDonald was a brave soul, with a great heart 
and still greater curiosity, and in order to perform a 
charitable act, and at the same time to gratify her foible 
— for she scented a mystery in the affair — she helped 
our heroine into the house, put her in a seat, and 
brought her some refreshments. 

“ My child, you look very weak ; take a drop of 
that, ” said she, pouring into a glass some whiskey, a 
supply of which the good lady kept always on hand 
for emergencies. 

“ No, thanks, I have to go. I wish to see Curtis, ’* 
said Barbara feebly. 

“ My child, you seem to be in trouble. Has Curtis 
given you the trouble ? Why, I knowed him for many 
years and a better boy never lived. Always paid regu- 
larly and gave presents to all. Never told me a cross- 
word. But why don’t you put down that bundle? 


68 Social Sinners 

Is it a wedding present for Mr. Curtis? Just let 
me 

The good soul was suddenly interrupted by a sharp 
and shrill cry that came forth from the bundle. Her 
amazement and agitation was extreme. , 

Aha ! what is that? A live bundle, Jesus ! and why 
do you walk around with this babe so late to look for 
Curtis ? The poor thing must be hungry. Let us look 
at it, ” and saying this she drew out the crying infant 
from its many wrappers and examined it as if she had 
never seen an infant before. 

“ And where does his w — wife live ? asked Barbara, 
absorbed in her thoughts and with difficulty pronounc- 
ing the title usurped by another woman from her. 

Oh, you mean his wife’s parents ; they live on 

street, but the new couple are going to Europe, and I 
guess they are now on their way. ” 

Barbara got up suddenly from her chair and grabbed 
the baby, saying : I must go quick, perhaps I will catch 
him. ” 

The urgent requests of Mrs. McDonald to stay longer 
and rest were of no avail, and the visitor left in haste. 
A suspicion then entered the brave woman’s mind, and 
she could be heard murmuring, “ who would believe it 
of him, who would suspect ? ” And she went around 
prattling about the matter with her neighbors. 

Barbara found the house easily. She mounted the 
stoop and rang the bell. A servant opened the door, 
eyed the visitor narrowly and in answer to her in- 
quiry said that Curtis had not returned from the 
church, and he did not know whether he would return 


Barbara’s Reflections 69 

at all, and, closing the door before her very nose, went 
to the servants^ apartment, where the wedding was 
celebrated in their own fashion, and prattled over it 
to the other servants; but as they all were busy with 
their festivities the matter was hardly given any 
thought, and the woman, Curtis^ and soon the whole 
world became to them extremely hazy and confused, 
and very soon their minds became a blank, with total 
oblivion of the past, present and future. Barbara 
lingered till she was chased away by Mr. Silverton as 
the reader saw above. He must have guessed that the 
woman was no other than our heroine. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE RIVER 

Barbara, on being ordered away by Mr. Silverton, 
did not know whither to direct her steps, and walked 
aimlessly in the streets. 

When she hastily left her retreat on learning of 
Curtis’s marriage, she did not form any definite plan of 
action. She found out that she had been betrayed and 
having been overwhelmed with a desire to confront her 
betrayer she acted on the impulse of the moment, having 
had only one end in view — to see him, not knowing 
herself what she would do to him if she met him, and 
was oblivious to everything else in the world. But 
when she found herself in the street, alone in the 
night, with an infant in her arms, she became fully 
conscious of her misery and wretchedness, and her 
anguish mixed with the sense of weakness and power- 
lessness to avenge her wrongs, tore her heart and 
racked her body with excruciating pain and suffering. 
Over a year ago she had come to this modern Babylon 
penurious and friendless, with a bundle in her arms. 
But then she was buoyed up ^yith hopes and expecta- 
tions and was proud of a priceless gem — her virtue. 
Now she held in her arms the innocent witness of her 
disgrace and downfall, and for a moment she became 
70 


The River 


71 

possessed of a mad impulse to vent her fury on this 
innocent being — itself a victim of a calamitous destiny, 
— to extinguish its life and to free herself from the 
traces of her fatal errors and from impediments in her 
movements. But at this moment the babe emitted a 
long wail as if in sympathy with the mother’s misery, 
and in her maternal breast then arose feelings of pity 
and tenderness for this cherub whom cruel fate 
destined to suffer on account of the progenitors’ guilt. 

Thus tormented and torn by conflicting emotions, she 
felt herself the most wretched creature on earth, and 
cursing her ill-fated star wished for death to deliver her 
from her sufferings. Mechanically she directed her 
steps towards the East River. “ Sooner or later it must 
come ; why not now ? Why not end the misery of my- 
self and this poor waif ? ” thought she. At this time 
the infant’s cries became persistent and imperative. 
The mother gave it her empty breast, and after pulling 
at it in vain the babe dropped it in despair and gave 
vent to prolonged heart-rending yells. Tears rolled 
from the woman’s eyes, she bit her lips till blood 
spurted from them. 

“ O Jesus, what have I done to deserve all that ! ” 
moaned she. 

As she crossed an avenue she saw a group of gay 
revelers making merry, and behind, a lively couple 
walking arm in arm. joking and laughing. O God!” 
thought she, that woman yonder may in a year from 
now be in the same condition as I. Oh, how I hate this 
world I Come, let us finish it quickly.” And so saying 
she reached a pier near the river. There was a full 


72 


Social Sinners 


moon. Big, fleecy, ragged clouds chased one another 
in the sky, now mischievously hiding the nocturnal 
lustre and transmitting only a dull lurid light, and 
then passing away, letting the Queen of the Night look 
pensively at the terrestrial globe full of vanities and 
follies. Below, the mighty bosom of the river, rolling 
on smoothly and for ages its waters dark and unfath- 
omable like our destiny, and lined with black, hideous 
silhouettes of dilapidated ugly buildings, was now en- 
veloped in a mantle of darkness, lit only with numerous 
twinkling lights from boats and buildings ; then, again, 
as the clouds passed away, it caught the silvery rays 
of the moonlight and shone like a polished mirror. 

The tranquillity and majesty of the night were now 
and then disturbed by a ribald song from a belated rev- 
eler, or by a shrill whistle of a small boat demanding 
the right of way, or by the deep, imposing roar of a 
bigger steamer warning others of danger and to keep 
away. 

Barbara paused for awhile near the edge of the pier, 
and as she gazed, oblivious to her surroundings, into 
the black deep waters, she was forcibly and mysteri- 
ously attracted towards the Great Unknown, to lose her 
individuality and to find forgetfulness and rest by min- 
gling her atoms with the mighty mass of matter of the 
universe. 

“ O God ! forgive me, I can not stand it longer,” mur- 
mured she, and made a movement to leap. 

She felt herself suddenly seized as in a vise, and a 
man’s voice yelled in her ear, “ Stop ! don’t ye see de 
river? ” 


The River 


73 

'' Let me go ! ” cried she, making efforts to wrench 
herself away from the man’s grasp. ''What do you 
care? It is none of your business.” 

" No, ye won’t,” said the man, tightening his hold ; 
" I’ll call de police.” Barbara turned her face to the 
man, and immediately thereupon he relaxed his grasp 
and drew back a few steps, utterly staggered, as if 
stabbed in the heart. 

" Is dat ye, Barbara ! ” exclaimed he in bewilderment 
when he recovered his speech. "Ye here on sech an 
errend ! ” Then she also recognized the man ; but she 
was in a dazed condition, and was as if in a trance, her 
suffering having at last dulled her brain. She therefore 
did not evince great surprise at the strange encounter, 
and said coolly : " Yes, it is me, Karl ; why didn’t you let 
me do what I wanted to? There would be an end to 
my troubles.” 

" O Barbara, have ye come to dat ! ” cried the poor 
fellow with tears rolling from his eyes. " Lemme help 
ye. I’ll do all I kin fur ye.” 

Barbara’s heart was touched by so much devotion, 
and in her turn she experienced a feeling of pity and 
compassion for the poor, uncouth fellow. 

" O Karl, you can’t do much for me now. I am 
lost forever. Had I been wiser, things might have been 
different for both of us.” At this moment the infant 
began to cry. 

" Wat’s dat? ” asked Karl in amazement. 

" That’s my disgrace, Karl,” replied she, bending her 
head. 

Karl’s voice was stifled by sobs. He saw there was 


74 


Social Sinners 


now an impassable gulf between them. But his big heart 
was nevertheless ready to help the woman he loved. He 
wiped his tears and said : “ Well, no use standin' and 
talkin’ here. Ye must be ungry and tired. Come wid 
me. 

She could resist no longer and let him lead her. 

“ But how do you come here ? ” asked she after they 
had walked a short distance in silence. 

“ I live round here an’ ov late can’t sleep much, so 
I’m walkin’ till very late to kill time,” explained he. 

The poor fellow, since his last visit to Barbara’s 
boarding-house when he found she had left, spent 
much of his time, when not working, in wandering in 
the streets, faintly hoping to meet her. He often came 
to that pier and would sit wrapt in his thoughts, watch- 
ing the boats, and many a time, in a fit of despondency, 
was he tempted to do what the object of his love tried 
to do, but the better sense always gained ascendency, 
telling him that all hope was not lost. 

That night, he sat in his usual corner, thinking of her 
more than usual, and almost despairing of ever seeing 
her again, when he saw a dark form aproaching him, 
and owing to the darkness, recognized her only when 
he was struggling with her. Though Karl was bitter 
against Barbara, against women in general and against 
the whole world, and valued little his own life, yet when 
he saw a poor wretch in danger of losing her life, his 
better nature asserted itself and he went to her rescue. 

Now, though he saw that there was a terrible bar- 
rier between them, for even if she consented now his 
simple virtue would not allow him to marry a woman 


The River 


75 


(and he would never think to live with her without 
wedlock) who bore the traces of her disgrace, yet de- 
spite this, or perhaps on account of this, his pity to- 
wards her grew stronger, and he was ready to do 
everything for this poor creature whom he pitied now 
more than loved. 

In silence they walked, Karl leading, till they reached 
a hotel in the neighborhood. He helpd her in, bade 
good night, promising to call at noon, and retired. 

He went home, and laid down for a rest, as he was 
weary and exhausted. 


CHAPTER Xy 


THE INTERVIEW 

The next day Karl did not go to work, and when 
he called at noon he found Barbara sitting on the bed, 
nursing the baby. 

In the daylight he could see her better. She was 
thinner and paler than when he had last seen her. Her 
eyes were, owing to this change, much larger. There was 
a melancholy look in them. When Karl thus saw her, 
a feeling of pity not unmingled with love pervaded his 
whole being for this unfortunate woman, and though 
she held the proof of her sin in her arms, he was mo- 
mentarily tempted to fall on his knees before her and 
kiss her feet, imploring her to forget her past and to 
turn a new leaf in life. Had he seen the slightest en- 
couragement on her part, his old love would have been 
rekindled with irresistible fierceness, and his virtue and 
the slight repugnance which he had felt the previous 
night towards the fallen woman might have vanished 
like smoke. But she remained calm, made an effort to 
smile, and, bending her head, said : '' Good morning, 
Karl ; really. Til never forget your kindness.’’ 

“ Did ye sleep well ? ” asked he, not finding another 
theme for conversation. 


76 


The Interview 


77 

Thanks. I rested quite well, and now I am ready 
to go again.” 

“ Were do ye want to go? ” 

“ Really, I don’t know, but I must go,” said she in 
a low voice full of despair. 

“ Look here, Barbara, if you want somtin’, if ye need 
money, don’t be ’shamed to tell me, and I’ll help all I 
can.” 

Barbara’s eyes filled with tears. “ Really I don’t de- 
serve it. I am a bad woman ” 

'' Don’t, don’t speak so ! ” interrupted Karl, choking 
with emotions. 

I ruined my life,” began she again with a fierce look 
in her eyes, “ and last night I wished to make an end to 
it. I would have done so, if you had not come to help me. 
I would do the same thing over again, but my heart 
is full of hate and revenge, and I want to live now to 
revenge myself on the scoundrel who ruined my life. 
Yes, Karl, I gave away my love to a scoundrel and I 
can live now only to pay him for what he has done to 
me. Now, I don’t want to trouble you. I want only to 
borrow from you a little till I find work, for I am with- 
out a cent.” 

Any time ye want, Barbara, write to me an’ ye’ll 
not have to be waitin’ long,” said he handing her the 
sum he had about him and his address. 

O, God, God ! why couldn’t I love Karl instead of 
that mean fellow?” exclaimed she, overwhelmed by 
emotions of gratitude. But now it is too late, too 
late,” continued she, as if musing to herself. 

“ Oh, don’t min’, don’t min’,” was all he found to say. 


Social Sinners 


78 

Good-by, Karl, good-by ; forgive a wretched 
woman,” said she, pressing his hands. I’ll go away 
from New York, as this place is hateful to me, to look 
for work in another city, and as soon as I find work 
I’ll write to you.” 

And thus they parted. 

Barbara found a nurse for her infant, with whom it 
was left, and went to another town in search of work. 


CHAPTER XVI 


IN GAY PAREE ” 

Mr. and Mrs. Curtis departed on their wedding trip 
to Europe directly after the marriage ceremony, and 
after having spent some time in England, repaired to 
Paris, where they proposed to pass the remainder of 
their vacation. 

Papa Silverton presented Curtis with a handsome 
check for his journey, and supplied him also with 
drafts on a Parisian bank in case he should fall short 
of ready cash. When an American travels for pleasure 
he does not count the cost, a fact of which the European 
hotel-keepers are not ignorant, and a good reason why 
they regard him as a welcome visitor. 

Our hero, who was not naturally close in pecuniary 
matters, traveled in great style. In Paris as well as in 
London he stopped in the finest hotels and spent freely 
Mr. Silverton’s dollars. 

In England, owing to the identity of the language, 
the couple felt almost at home. But as soon as they 
reached the French soil, everything seemed to them 
strange and incomprehensible. The voluble, lively 
French tongue bewildered them. Mrs. Curtis, who had 
received a smattering of French at her academy and had 
told her husband that she would have no difficulty in 

79 


8o 


Social Sinners 


traveling in France, felt greatly hurt by the fact that 
she and the lively Gauls could not understand one an- 
other. Curtis never cared much for foreign tongues, 
as English was good enough,” as he used to say. 
When he teased his better half for her inability to make 
herself understood in that language, she answered: 
“What do you want? These foreigners are so igno- 
rant they don’t understand their own language; I am 
sure I studied it well enough.” And she was angry 
and disgusted that a people should so much distort a 
language as to make it incomprehensible for a decent 
person. 

When they arrived in Paris, at first she kept herself 
in their apartment in the hotel, unwilling to go out. She 
declared that Paris was a nasty city and the inhabitants 
very stupid, and she could not see why people were 
raving about it so much. She was ready to engage 
berths in the next steamer bound for home, and would 
perhaps have done so, had she not agreed to meet her 
old friend. Miss May Clayton, who was to arrive in 
Paris and meet her there. 

She took her meals in her rooms, seldom going down 
for dinner in the general dining-room, as her inability to 
understand French greatly irritated her. 

One day Curtis was out ; she felt very lonesome and 
angry for being left alone by her young lord, and went 
all alone to dine in the general salon. Next to her, at 
the same table, happened to sit a little elderly French- 
man, dyed and powdered, with an air blase, who wished 
to pass as a young man and was yet pursuing his ad- 
ventures with the gentler sex. He overheard her give 


“In Gay Paree” 


8i 


orders to the waiters in broken French, eyed her for 
some time, and at the end ventured to open a conversa- 
tion. 

Comme il fait chaud aujourd’hui !” remarked he, an- 
ticipating her desire and helping her to more iced water. 

She was by no means offended at the Frenchman’s 
unrequested intrusion, but was delighted to think that 
at last she was going to play her own little part in the 
gay capital. She slightly blushed and answered in 
wretched French, “ We, mosiu,” at random, as she did 
not know what he said. Thereupon the voluble Gaul 
opened all his batteries, pouring forth numerous wordy 
bullets, aimed directly at his fair listener’s heart. He 
introduced himself as Le Baron de la Blaqiie, which 
was one of the parts of the conversation that she under- 
stood. 

She was very much elated to learn that a real, live 
baron was flirting with her, and almost regretted her 
hasty marriage. After dinner, when she rose from the 
table, he escorted her to the ladies’ parlor, where he took 
leave of her with a melodramatic wave of the hand. 

She was so delighted with her success that she forgot 
to scold her liege when he came in rather late, but in- 
stead told him of the charming time she had had, and 
that the Frenchmen were really very nice gentlemen. 

Curtis had formed the acquaintance of an English 
tourist who was stopping in the same hotel, and to- 
gether they idled away their time around the hotel, talk- 
ing of baseball, horse-racing and prize-fighting, as the 
Britisher was a sport by nature. Many a time they 
went out to the Faubourgs, as the peripteral sections 


82 


Social Sinners 


of Paris are called, “ slumming,” Curtis availing 
himself of his spouse’s desire to remain in her rooms un- 
disturbed. 

Mrs. Curtis did not manifest an even temper in the 
gay capital the first few weeks, being often cross 
and irritable towards her lord and also to the attendants. 
This led to retaliation on the part of Curtis, who in a 
fit of anger would disappear for a few hours and return 
to find his better half in tears, bemoaning her ill-luck. 
These few hours he passed with the Englishman in see- 
ing the sights of the city and in visiting the foire , — a 
fair held by rotation in the various parts of the city 
most convenient for such a purpose. There our trav- 
elers saw rows of stands with various bric-a-brac ex- 
posed for sale ; decorated wagons with patent medicines 
and stuffs for sharpening razors and knives, with 
Frenchmen dressed in grotesque costumes, haranguing 
the crowds on the quality of the goods ; museums with 
women snake-charmers, wrestlers, acrobats and fight- 
ers; cheap theatres with continuous performances and 
at the entrance women — some stricken in age, some 
young yet, but all bearing the marks of vice and scantily 
attired — performing sinuous, insinuating dances to at- 
tract customers, and a painted and powdered female, 
fantastically dressed, stalking around majestically and 
chanting monotonously : “ Messieurs et mesdames la 
representation va commencer tout a I’heure,” (the per- 
formance will take place immediately) ; shooting gal- 
leries, carousels and plenty of women of all types and 
kinds, moral and physical, loitering around, — in a word, 
our own dear old Coney Island in the city itself, with 


‘‘In Gay Paree” 


83 

the difference that the Anglo-Saxon coarseness and 
heaviness is relieved by the finer polish and gayety 
of the French in vice. 

•After having feasted their eyes in the foire our tour- 
ists would drop into a saloon to minister to their 
physical wants. The French drinks were at first intol- 
erable to Curtis. '' Nothing like a dear old cocktail 
to quench the thirst,” would he sigh. But soon he took 
a liking to the wines, absinthe, etc., and declared that 
Paris was too d good for anything.” 

It was after he had spent a most pleasant day loiter- 
ing in the city, trying to forget his wife’s irritable 
temper, that he returned in the evening and was agree- 
ably surprised to find her in high spirits. She took de- 
light in detailing to him what had occurred at the din- 
ner-table and in dwelling on the fine manners of the 
French nobleman, and she finished by saying: “He 
would certainly not leave his wife a whole day, alone, 
in a strange city, as you do.” 

“ It depends,” answered he laconically. 

On the following morning an attendant handed her a 
card bearing the name of May Clayton. She ran de- 
lightedly to meet her dear old friend, who was waiting 
downstairs, and a lost traveler in Sahara could not be 
more overjoyed at the meeting of a friend than were 
the two ladies at seeing each other in a strange land. 
After the first embraces and demonstrations of joy were 
over Miss Clayton said : “ Now tell me how you have 
spent your time? You must be well acquainted by this 
time with Paris, for you have seen everything worth 
seeing.” 


Social Sinners 


84 

Oh, nothing of the kind, dear. I have not left the 
hotel ; I did not care to go alone. I was waiting for you, 
and my husband you know is like the rest of them, 
they are only attentive before they get us, and then they 
forget about us. If you’ll listen to my advice, dearest, 
you’ll never marry.” 

‘‘ No, not till the right one comes,” replied the 
maiden, jokingly. 

The right one — but who can tell who is the right 
and who is the wrong one ? They all flirt well enough.” 
Then she imparted to her bosom friend all the details 
of her meeting with the baron at dinner. 

Miss Clayton had visited Europe and also Paris five 
years previously with her mother, who was an invalid 
and traveled for her health. Although she was then 
quite young, yet she knew something of the city and of 
life, and w>as greatly amused at her friend’s simplicity. 
Finally, they arranged for a drive together in the near 
future in the Bois de Boulogne, and the visitor soon 
took leave of her, because she had only come on the 
previous day and had many things to attend to. 

I stay with my uncle, you know, for papa would 
not let me stop alone in 'a hotel ; he had to remain at 
home on account of business. You must call on me 
with Mr. Curtis to-morrow. Here is my address,” 
and having given her the address, and kissed her friend 
again, she departed for her quarters. 


CHAPTER XVII 


MISS CLAYTON 

Miss May Clayton took up her temporary abode 
with her miaternal uncle, Mr. James Remington, for 
reasons given by her to her friend when leaving her ad- 
dress. 

Mr. Remington was born in Boston, and was of an 
old, respectable family. His parents died while he was 
yet a student in Harvard, leaving him and his sister — 
w.ho was a few years his senior and already married to 
Mr. Clayton — a small fortune, and what fell to his share 
was enough for him to finish his studies and to estab- 
lish himself in business or a profession. After graduat- 
ing from Harvard he did not know what to do with 
himself, as he had no inclination to or aptitude for busi- 
ness, and was equally loath to embrace a profession, be- 
ing fully aware of the hardships, struggles and unpro- 
fessional conduct through which professional men must 
pass, owing to the great overcrowding in the liberal pro- 
fessions. As he belonged entirely to himself he decided 
to travel and to see the world. 

After having spent several years in travel and seen 
the world, he had no more desire to return home, as he 
had, in fact, no near relatives across the ocean except 
8S 


86 


Social Sinners 


his sister, and she was married. So he settled in Paris. 
He was in the publishing business, in which he greatly 
prospered. 

He was one of those Americans who with democratic 
ideas (Mr. Remington was a descendant of a stock 
that took an active part in the American Revolution) 
united culture, refinement and a broad knowledge of the 
world, acquired by travel. He was devoid of preju- 
dices ; what he, respected most was intellect and integ- 
rity. He was a cosmopolitan in his family life, in his 
friends and acquaintances as well as in his ideas. He 
married a cultured French woman, and among his 
friends and acquaintances were representatives of all 
nations and climes. As he dealt in books, many of his 
acquaintances were of the intellectual class. 

Miss May Clayton had thus an opportunity to see 
humanity in various phases. But, to tell the truth, she 
preferred rather to mingle in French high society, for 
she was not proof against the temptation of surprising 
her countrymen by the announcement of her engage- 
ment to a French noble, like some of her countrywomen 
who had less wit but better luck. 

Unfortunately, her dowry hardly reached six figures, 
and she was not so stupid as not to know that it would 
hardly pay a nobleman’s incidental debts, epitomised 
under “ sundries,” not to speak of the heavy ones. She 
had therefore to content herself as best she could. 

Mr. and Mrs. Remington gave frequent “ at homes ” 
in their beautiful residence, near the Avenue de TOpera. 
Even in the hot summer, owing to their niece’s visit, 


Miss Clayton 87 

they kept open house in the city, going very little to the 
country. 

During her first few weeks' stay with her uncle she 
met a few young men bearing high names. But they 
were in literary pursuits and seemed to be too absorbed 
to think of 'matrimony. She also seemed to care little 
for- them, as they were what she called “ too slow." In 
order that the reader may better understand this young 
woman’s character we shall say a few more words 
concerning her now, before she enters on the stage of 
real life. 

Miss Clayton was an only child, and consequently 
greatly petted and spoiled by her mother when that lady 
was in good health. When she became an invalid, 
which occurred several years before her demise, she 
could not bestow much attention on the child, who was 
practically left to her own free will. When the mother 
died Miss Clayton was only fifteen years old, and had 
not long before entered an academy for young ladies. 
Her father was busy with politics, so that practically 
she was her own mistress. She was full of spirit and mis- 
chief, delighting in physical exercise. She was as bright 
as she was beautiful, quick at repartee and a great fa- 
vorite in society. She had a free, open gait, and a 
frank, hearty laugh. 

She was unlike her French or German sisters in the 
same stations in life, who laugh in subdued tones, drop 
their eye-lids when spoken to by a strange man, affect 
small steps in walking, who — in a word — have been 
trained to act according to conventionalities. Miss 


88 


Social Sinners 


Clayton liked those of the sterner sex, who were strong, 
active, and lively, finding little enjoyment in the society 
of those who were of a dreamy, pensive, contemplative 
disposition. 

The Frenchmen with whom she came in contact con- 
sidered her a novelty and liked her very much. The 
demure French damsels, partly from jealousy, partly 
from old-fashioned notions about propriety, were not 
favorably disposed towards her. As she knew not how 
to gain admission into French high life, she was com- 
pelled to satisfy herself with what she could get. 

She spent much time with Mrs. Curtis, who, by the 
way, had by this time, owing greatly to the presence 
of her gay and lively friend, entirely overcome her 
peevishness, and her former aversion to the gay capital 
had been transformed into a strong attachment to it, to 
such an extent that as the time approached to return 
home, she regretted very much that she could not re- 
main there indefinitely. 

The two friends, sometimes alone, and sometimes ac- 
companied by Mr. Curtis, went out frequently shopping, 
driving and sight-seeing, and enjoyed themselves im- 
mensely. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


RECEPTION AT THE REMINGTONS 

One evening in the middle of September*, thanks, to 
the cool weather and to the presence of the beautiful 
American visitor, the reception at the Remingtons in 
Paris was well attended, and such a heterogeneous 
gathering could be found only in a cosmopolitan city 
and in a cosmopolitan house. 

There were Mr. and Mrs. Curtis and the English- 
man that stopped in the same hotel with them, who was 
invited by Miss Clayton out of courtesy to Mr. Curtis. 

Monsieur le Baron de la Blaque, who had been so 
smitten by Mrs. Curtis, happened to be an old acquaint- 
ance of the Remingtons, and though not a frequent vis- 
itor to their house, came that evening. The baron was 
the last scion of an aristocratic family and as he re- 
mained in single blessedness his pedigree was doomed 
to be buried with him. He had succeeded in getting 
rid of his heavily mortgaged estates soon after he had 
come in possession of them, squandering the scanty pro- 
ceeds on cards and women, and in his older age tried to 
retrieve his fortune by engaging in literary pursuits. 
He was not, however, very successful in his new occu- 
pation. He had written a book on “ The Nobility Dur- 
89 


90 


Social Sinners 


ing the Reign of Louis XIV/^ which Mr. Remington 
tried to push for him, and had succeeded in disposing 
of a few hundred copies. He took an interest, not 
unmingled with pity, in this crank, a remnant of an 
effete aristocracy struggling in the last throes of death, 
whose days are numbered. There was a German 
physician. Dr. Wunderlich, who was pursuing bacteri- 
ological investigations in the Parisian laboratories. The 
whole summer he had spent in examining with German 
thoroughness specimens of foeces from patients suffer- 
ing from summer complaints, in order to determine the 
microbes responsible for these affections. He had al- 
ready discovered a few varieties and published a pre- 
liminary report of them in the medical journals, but he 
desired to continue his investigations in this line, in 
order to complete his report, and was very sorry that 
the cold weather was setting in, as it was hard for him 
to obtain fresh specimens for examination. 

Two medicos from the United States happened also 
to be there. One, Dr. Humbugton, of New York, who 
was distantly related to Mr. Remington, came to Europe 
to take a course after he had finished his studies at 
home, in order to fit himself for a professorship. Old 
Dr. Humbugton owned considerable college stock and 
was practically the “ boss in the college, so that he 
intended to make his son a professor as soon as he came 
back from Europe. The youngster was a forlorn look- 
ing fellow, with an insipid smile on his face, and a 
peculiar way of jerking up his head, in the fashion of a 
he-goat, when talking. With him was a medical 
luminary, a Dr. Levy, from the East Side of New York 


Reception at the Remingtons 91 

City, where he had an extensive practice among his 
coreligionists, the Cohns and Levys. “ He is a smart 
boy, Dr. Levy is,’^ they would say about him on the 
East Side, in the Ghetto. In a short time of practice 
he has already bought a tenement house.” And all the 
Cohns and Levys having marriageable daughters sent 
to him matrimonial agents to get him for a son-in-law. 
But Dr. Levy was a sly fellow ; he was holding out till 
some brilliant party should turn up. Now, he went to 
Europe to increase his prestige in the Ghetto, where 
on returning, he might boast of his great scientific 
achievement in the Old World. He had a sandy beard, 
wore golden spectacles, had a perpetual smile on 
his face and was a great favorite with ladies. 
He and Dr. Humbugton graduated from the same 
college, but at home the latter hardly deigned 
to look at him, for class and race prejudices hold their 
sway within as well as without the college. But they 
met at a clinic in Paris and in a strange land are, very 
often, formed strange acquaintances. Levy spoke of 
his large practice, and Dr. Humbugton, who was go- 
ing into practice himself, thought it best to overcome 
his prejudices and befriend Levy, who could call him 
into a number of consultations and thus help him to 
become famous as well as to derive pecuniary benefit, 
and hence the appearance of the pair at the reception. 

There were also present two Russians, who escaped 
from their country because it was not safe for them to 
remain there any longer on account of holding ideas 
that were not graciously sanctioned by his Majesty the 
Czar. 


92 


Social Sinners 


There could likewise be seen a few French men and 
women of the industrial and commercial class. 

Last, but not least, came, as if fate had desired it, a 
young man by the name of Eugene de St. Denis. As 
this young man had been destined by the inscrutable 
ways of Providence to be drawn into the whirlpool of 
life and play a part in it till he should be overwhelmed 
by superior forces, a rather detailed description of him 
will be given to the reader. 

He was born of an old French family and counted 
several knights among his ancestors, but most of them 
distinguished themselves in the liberal professioins and 
in politics. On that evening he had just passed his 
twenty-third year, and was as innocent and pure in body 
and mind as a virtuous girl of sixteen. He was a 
Southerner and showed it by his speech and by his com- 
plexion, which was dark, but with a rosy tint, and that 
was so charming that a pretty coquette might envy it. 
He was of medium stature and proportionately built. 
But he was as unconscious and little conceited of his 
physical charms as a babe. He was of a dreamy, con- 
templative disposition, and given to introspection and to 
the admiration of nature — he was a philosopher and a 
poet, however discordant it may seem to some. But 
he was not a poet of the licentious type, spending his 
time in writing sonnets to women or in immoral epics — 
he was not a Don Juan, but an angelic being, who pro- 
posed to employ his gift in stirring mankind’s heart to 
deeds of honor and kindness. He was not inclined to- 
ward commerce or a profession and took literature for 
his vocation. He was unknown as yet to name and 


Reception at the Remingtons 93 

fame, not having produced enough to be spoken of 
much, but those who were able to judge predicted a 
great future for him. Alas ! that fatal evening doomed 
him to perdition and his friends to bitter disappointment 
and mortification. Like a butterfly which in circling 
around a light is at last, in a fatal moment, attracted 
to it, is scorched and expires in agony, so is an innocent 
soul in a fateful hour drawn into the meshes of an un- 
fortunate love from which it extricates itself, if at all, 
lacerated, bleeding and a cripple for life. 

When he was quite young, his father, who was a 
physician and a savant, died, leaving a small income on 
which he lived with his mother. 

Mr. and Mrs. Remington adored the young man, and 
when their beautiful American niece came, they were 
very anxious the young people should meet, thinking 
the interest would be mutual. The young man had 
just arrived from the country, where he had spent the 
summer with his mother. 

Such was the gathering on that September evening 
at the Remingtons. 


CHAPTER XIX 


SOME ODD CHARACTERS 

When a number of heterogeneous characters come 
together they are at first rather embarrassed, and the 
conversation is apt to lag for a while; which was the 
case with the mixed assembly described in the previous 
chapter, with the exception of the Baron, who opened 
his batteries immediately and spared not his vocal or- 
gans till the last. 

As soon as he perceived Mrs. Curtis in the house 
of his friend, he recognized her as the lady with whom 
he had flirted in the hotel’s restaurant; at first he was 
slightly nettled by such a strange coincidence, but he 
w'as soon over it, and on being introduced to that lady 
by the hostess, he saluted her with a grand air and 
said pompously, “ How. do you do, Madame Curtis, we 
have had the pleasure of meeting before, is it not so ? ” 
The good lady was greatly amused at the way he pro- 
nounced her name, with the accent on the last syllable, 
and admired his way of saluting, which she thought 
was so fine and noble. “ Oh, he is a very nice man,” 
remarked she in English to her neighbor, an elderly 
French lady, who did not understand a word of English. 

Dr. Wunderlich was sitting in a corner near a small 
table all by himself, grave, serious, and absorbed in 

94 


Some Odd Characters 


95 


thoughts, as if all the microbes of the world were 
weighing heavily on his broad shoulders and thick Ger- 
man neck, or as if he felt responsible for not finding 
a way of exterminating them. While thus sitting he 
mechanically drew with a lead-pencil on a piece of pa- 
per dots and short lines, which to an unpracticed eye 
seemed all alike. Mrs. Curtis, who, as the reader 
knows, was a curious dame, espied him in his occupa- 
tion and asked him whether he was skillful in short- 
hand writing. 

“ What makes you think so. Madam ? I know noth- 
ing of stenography,” answered he. 

Why, those dots and lines you make, are they not 
shorthand ? ” asked the lady in surprise. 

The German looked at her as one would look at a per- 
son who did not know the capital of England. “ No, 
Madam,” answered he gravely, these represent the 
various pathogenic bacteria. This short line here is 
the bacillus tuberculosis ; that is the comma bacillus of 
Koch, and these here I discovered in summer complaint, 
and ” 

The German cared not to discuss science with lay- 
men, but he was so full of his subject that once he be- 
gan — and as in this case he could not be so rude as not 
to answer a lady’s question — he could not easily stop 
and was ready to go over the whole subject with Ger- 
man accuracy; but Mrs. Curtis hated long words and 
scientific discussions, which she considered very dull, 
so that she had not patience enough to wait till the end 
of the lecture. She gathered from his talk that he was 
referring to diseases, and she interrupted him by say- 


Social Sinners 


96 

ing : Yes, I myself was so sick last year with a cough, 
and the doctors said I had a touch of consumption, but 
Dr. Bluffman, you know him, don’t you? — gave me 
medicines and got me all right again.” 

The German was very interested in the subject, as he 
was collecting statistics of the recoveries of consump- 
tion, and therefore he asked, '' Were there any tubercle 
bacilli found in your sputum ? ” 

‘‘ What, sir ! ” asked the lady rather indignantly, 
bac — bac — no, sir, no such a thing was found in me.'* 
‘‘ Then it was not consumption,” answered the scien- 
tist sententiously. 

This irritated her considerably, and she said rather 
peevishly : “ I know Dr. Bluffman is a good doctor ; 
we have used him for many years, and he charges five 
dollars in his office and has a big practice, and he said 
so. That thing which you say is foreign ; you may have 
it in your country, but we don’t have it in America.” 
The last sentence was added by her as a sort of com- 
promise. The German was by this time thoroughly 
aroused, and forgetting his opponent’s sex, exclaimed, 
“ Madam, I have never heard of Dr. Bluffman, and I 
presume he must be a quack ; here we gauge a scientist 
by his work, and not by the fee he charges or by the 
number of patients he has.” This was said rather 
loudly, and attracted the attention of the two medical 
lights from the United States, who came nearer to the 
speaker, while Mrs. Curtis retired with an injured air, 
saying to herself : “ I would never use such a doctor as 
he ; he does not know how to talk to ladies. Why, if I 
say something to Dr. Bluffman he smiles and thinks it 


Some Odd Characters 


97 


very clever, and here this foreigner thinks I am a 
fool.” 

“ Do you know Dr. Bluffman, of New York, gentle- 
men ? ” he asked them. 

“ Yes, doctor,” answered Humbugton, Levy keep- 
ing a little in the back out of deference to the former, 
from whom he expected some position in connection 
with the college on returning to New York. “ Dr. 
Bluffman has an extensive practice and is connected 
with many institutions.” 

All your countrymen seem to appreciate a man by 
his success in making money,” said the German bluntly, 

but what has he done for science ; what discoveries 
has he made ? ” 

Oh, he is a practical physician, he is a clinician, and 
has contributed to medical science by writing a book,” 
answered Humbugton. 

'' Writing a book, writing a book,” retorted the Ger- 
man contemptuously, “ that is all you can do, to steal 
our discoveries and write them in your books.”* 

'' I hope we have also discovered something,” Hum- 
bugton ventured to say. 

Here Levy thought it an opportune moment for him 
to interpose, and said : '' Have you not heard of old Dr. 
Humbugton, of New York? Why, he is a famous 
man, one that any country can be proud of.” 

“ Never heard of him,” answered the German briefly. 

Here Dr. Humbugton’s ire arose, and he said : 
“ Well, however it is, we get along in our country bet- 
ter than you in yours, and your people come to us in 


Social Sinners 


98 

search of bread, not ours to you, and for all I know 
you may yourself come to us yet,'’ saying which he and 
Levy moved away from the conceited Teuton and be- 
gan to talk of his plans on reaching home, Levy listen- 
ing respectfully. 

Yes, doctor,” said Humbugton, you will be my 
assistant and we must try to help each other. Of 
course, I can have lots of other fellows who would be 
only happy to assist me, but I wish to have a wide- 
awake man ; you know what I mean, don’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, doctor, I understand,” answered the other. 

I can do something in return.” 

M. de St. Denis and Miss Clayton did not have the 
opportunity to enter into conversation during the first 
part of the evening and only occasionally glanced at 
each other from the corners of their eyes, like two com- 
batants who eye each other on entering the arena, for 
the young people felt intuitively as soon as they met 
that thejr meeting woulS not pass without affecting 
their lives, at least the life of one of them. The occa- 
sion, however, soon presenting itself, the young man 
said : ' 

I have heard so much about you. Miss Clayton, 
that I am really happy to make your acquaintance.” 

You really flatter, sir. I did not think that I was 
a person of such importance as to be spoken of so 
much.” 

“ It is by no means flattery,” replied he, “ and I see 
now that too much has not been said of you, for to your 
other qualities you add that of modesty.” 

” Really, I was not aware that I had so many qual- 


Some Odd Characters 


99 


ities, but your countrymen seem to be consummate in 
the skill of making compliments, and so I will receive 
your remarks for what they are worth.” 

It grieves me very much to hear you say so ; this 
is a mistaken notion about our countrymen. Some 
think that all we are good for is to invent new styles 
in dresses, bon-bons, and to make compliments to ladies. 
We have, however, a Racine, a Moliere, a Voltaire, a 
Rousseau, and a host of others. I hope you are ac- 
quainted with our literature and arts and sciences, is it 
not so ? ” 

Yes, I guess so, I studied a little, but I am not a 
great scholar, as this has never been my ambition.” 

“ What do you like best, then, may I ask you, light 
literature ? ” 

I prefer this, to while away my time, when I have 
nothing else to do.” 

“ Is literature of so little importance that it is in- 
dulged in only for the purpose of whiling away the 
time ? ” he asked somewhat surprised. 

“ Oh, not everybody’s literature,” retorted she with a 
mischievous twinkle in her beautiful eyes. ‘‘ Some peo- 
ple’s I value very much. Let me now return the com- 
pliment. I have heard so much about your writing, and 
that which I read from your pen I liked so much, that 
I would wish to read more of your writing.” 

Now it is my turn to say that your countrywomen 
seem to be very skilful in flattering,” remarked he with 
a smile ; I am sure you must have thought it the dull- 
est piece of work you ever read and the author an im- 


becile.’! 




lOO 


Social Sinners 


No, far from it, and I would consider it a great 
favor if you would give me some more of your work 
to read.’' 

“ I am sorry, or perhaps ought to be glad, to say that 
I have not much printed, but I have some manuscripts, 
and if it affords you pleasure to make yourself miser- 
able in reading them I will forward them to you.” 

At that juncture refreshments were served and the 
conversation between the pair came to an end. 

After this, as is usually the case, the guests felt 
themselves more at home, became more animated, and 
the confabulation livelier. The Baron spoke enough 
for a dozen Englishmen, all the time directing his 
bleary old little optics towards the place where he 
thought the belle Americaine was, but as Miss Clayton 
was in great demand, he had no opportunity to display 
his eloquence to her. Towards the end of the evening, 
however, he seized the propitious moment and pounced 
on her. 

“ Mademoiselle, I thought I would have to go away 
without having had the happiness to speak a few words 
to you,” said he, corking his shriveled little face into 
a smile which he thought would kill her, but which 
nearly caused the young woman to burst into laughter, 
so comical did he appear. 

“ Oh, you certainly would not do this,” she replied 
quite gravely, “ a gallant French gentleman would cer- 
tainly not be so rude to a woman who is a stranger.” 

And you might as well add ‘ a beautiful woman,’ ” 
interposed the old beau. 


Some Odd Characters 


lOI 


Oh, that is not for me to say,” answered she. 

Then let me tell you,” said he, working himself up 
into a fervor, “ that, judging by you, America must 
be a paradise on earth, — it has charming women and 
golden mines, and I have a mind to cross the ocean my- 
self ; I hope I am young enough yet ? ” and he surveyed 
himself from head to foot in a nearby mirror. His 
juxtaposing women and gold mines made the joke un- 
savory to her, and she retaliated by saying: “We don’t 
care for imported articles; we believe in home indus- 
tries.” 

“ But you certainly have no such an article as le 
Baron de la Blaquef ” 

“ No, that we have not,” answered she, smiling. 

“ Here you are right again,” said the Frenchman, 
“ and I see that you unite beauty and intelligence, a rare 
thing in our French women (‘ and for that matter in the 
Frenchmen, too,’ thought our heroine to herself), and 
I see that you are the only woman that can understand 
me. Now, let me tell you that Baron de la Blaque is 
not like other noblemen ; our motto has always been 
sans peur et sans reproche, and here you can see an in- 
delible mark, which will tell you whether or no de la 
Blaque is a coward ” and so saying he pointed to a scar 
on his forehead. “ This was received,” continued he, 
getting warmer and warmer, “ in a duel with a count, 
because he dared to make a disparaging remark about 
a woman. And this,” pointing to another scar on the 
back of the head, “ was received in another duel with 


a 


102 


Social Sinners 


“ Does the Baron fight with his back towards his ad- 
versary ? interrupted the young woman with a 
malicious smile. 

The hero was discomfited for a moment, but only for 
a moment, and on recovering said : ‘‘ The coward at- 
tacked me from behind, but he paid with his life for 
that.^^ 

Dame rumor had it around, however, that the worthy 
nobleman received his injuries on one occasion by com- 
ing unconsciously in violent collision with the edges of 
chairs under a banquet table after he had been greatly 
exhausted in doing honor to the viands and wines. 

While he was recounting to his fair listener his bril- 
liant exploits, the attention of those nearer was at- 
tracted by a rather heated discussion between the two 
Russians. It may or may not be known to the reader 
that some subjects of the Czar are afflicted with ideas 
of their own, and as his Majesty takes care of the com- 
merce, industry, education and even of the thoughts of 
his dear children of his vast empire, he feels naturally 
indignant that his ungrateful subjects should take it into 
their heads to entertain notions of their own. The two 
Russians were of the above kind, and as they were not 
in a hurry to part with their favorite thoughts and still 
less with their heads, considering the latter, quite 
wisely, a very useful article, at least to themselves, they 
thought it best to keep themselves at some distance 
from the Father of their country, and they, like many 
others of their race, were inclined to delve into theories 
with regard to the best social arrangement for the 
future. 


Some Odd Characters 103 

The Czar’s two subjects had not been well acquainted 
with each other before, and that evening, at first, they 
had tried to draw each other out, like two prize-fighters 
trying to find each other’s weak points at the beginning, 
and later on the combat began in earnest, for nothing 
so much delights some Russians as to dispute hotly oc- 
casionally, over some idea or theory, and even to quarrel 
over it, and the one that is worsted has as much respect 
for his wordy conqueror as some Anglo-Saxons have 
for the man who knocked them down physically and 
gave them a good thrashing.- 

The subject of the discussion was whether the sub- 
division of labor should be continued in the future 
system of society, which system in general had been 
accepted by both of them as a matter of course. 

“ No,” said one, a strapping fellow with a red beard, 

I say that specialization and subdivision of labor dulls 
the intellect and reduces the individual to a mere au- 
tomaton.” 

“ That is wrong,” said the other, a black-bearded fel- 
low ; “ specialization of labor leads to greater perfection 
in work; it will also enable men to finish the work 
quicker and thus leave time for mental recreation; 
therefore it must remain in our future society.” 

'' I say you don’t know what you are talking about,” 
said the red-whiskered one ; ‘‘ it will make you so stupid 
that you will need no mental recreation.” 

“ And I maintain that I am right,” said the black- 
bearded one; “here are Karl Marx, Lassale, Tscher- 
nishewsky, and many others who say the same as I.” 

“ And I haveBakunine to support me,” said the other. 


1 04 Social Sinners 

These authorities were buffeted forth and back by the 
two adversaries without any definite results, till finally 
the black-bearded fellow said, ‘‘ What are your author- 
ities anyhow ? They are not scientists at all.” 

“ So, dare you thus insult the memory of a man 
who fought and died in a worthy cause! And pray, 
what are your authorities? Mere theorists, that’s all, 
only theorists.” 

This naturally led to retaliation on the part of the 
black-bearded fellow, who was a worthy antagonist, 
and the dispute grew hot, so that it attracted attention. 
Mr. Remington knew what it meant — it was only 
smoke, and no fire, for he had seen such things before. 
Curtis and the Englishman, however, who were sitting 
by, discussing the last prize-fight between two inter- 
national celebrities, one an Englishman and the other 
an American, which made it an international affair, 
dropped their discussion, got up, examined the two Rus- 
sians with an air of connoisseurs, and immediately ex- 
changed bets, as they were sure a fight would result from 
the quarrel. The Russians, having noticed that they at- 
tracted attention, discontinued the dispute, and as it 
was late, took leave of the host and hostess and de- 
parted. Curtis and his friend thought that they would 
fight it out on the street, so they followed them outside, 
and what was their surprise and indignation to see them 
both walk off arm in arm ! 

“ Cowards I they can only quarrel and not fight,” ex- 
claimed Curtis with contempt, and declared the bets 
off. 

The Baron remarked to Miss Clayton when the Rus- 


Some Odd Characters 105 

sians left : “ In my time there would be a duel to the 
death as the result of such a scrape, but now-a-days 
young men have fish blood in their veins.” 

As it was growing late the company soon departed, 
including also M. de St. Denis, but not before he prom- 
ised again, at Miss Clayton’s second request, to bring 
her his manuscripts. 

“ Well, how do you like Eugene de St. Denis? ” the 
Remingtons asked her, when they were left alone. 

He is a nice boy,” was all she said. 


CHAPTER XX 


EUGENE ST. DENIS 

When M. Eugene de St. Denis left Miss May Clay- 
ton — whom for the sake of brevity we shall call re- 
spectively Eugene and May, by their Christian names — 
his thoughts reverted a long while to the American 
beauty, trying to analyze her and define her — a vain 
task for an innocent, inexperienced young man, who 
had had very little dealings with women. 

On principle he admired her, and also perhaps be- 
cause she was in some ways the antithesis of himself, 
for he believed in the free growth and development of 
the individual, and the frank laugh and look, with the 
firm, open step, of the American appealed to him as an 
ideal type of womanhood. 

It is true she spoke rather lightly of literature, but 
then he compared her with some of the blue stockings 
he knew and the advantage was decidedly on her side, 
for he really did not care much for a sedate, learned 
woman. He was himself of a quiet, dreamy disposition, 
whereas the daughter of free America was active and 
lively, hating to remain in repose for any length of 
time, which formed a contrast to his nature, and which 
increased the attraction towards her, for in many in- 
stances we like something different from ourselves in 
106 


Eugene St. Denis 107 

a woman, not liking to see ourselves thoroughly re- 
flected in her; hence the very strange marriages as re- 
gards mental dispositions and stature. 

But above all she was a beautiful woman, and what 
young man, a novice in love, can stop to examine dis- 
passionately into the psychic conditions of a beautiful 
woman? The most glaring faults seem to him accom- 
plishments. But May had no glaring faults, if meas- 
ured by the criterion of the country and society in which 
she had been brought up ; on the contrary, according to 
such a criterion, she was a fine type of womanhood. 

As to May, she was not deeply impressed by the 
dreamy little French poet; she considered him a nice 
boy, as she had expressed it to the Remingtons, and that 
was all. There was in fact nothing in him to stir her 
heart. He was not a nobleman, not that she cared 
aught for the nobility itself, but it meant to her balls, 
parties, presentations in high society, in short, the fullest 
enjoyment of life while it lasts. As to her tender 
feminine side, love, though she was not, of course, in- 
susceptible to it — for who is at the right time with the 
right person? — Eugene was hardly the one to awaken 
in her such a passion. A handsome coachman with a 
stronger will than hers might have succeeded better 
than the modest deferential gentleman whom she re- 
garded as a pretty child or a fine poodle, of no conse- 
quence, made only to amuse her till something serious 
turned up. 

Three days after the reception Eugene called with 
the manuscript. May was out. She went to bid good- 
by to the Curtises, who were departing for home, as 


io8 


Social Sinners 


they wished to reach America in order to be ready for 
the elections in the fall. As our heroine had no par- 
ticular business at home, she proposed to stay in Paris 
a little longer. So he left the book for her and prom- 
ised to call a few days later. 

When May was bidding good-by to Mrs. Curtis, the 
latter said to her : “ I see that the little poet was very 
sweet on you that night ; we may perhaps hear soon of 
an engagement. I like the little Frenchman, he seems 
to be so gentle and nice ; don’t you ? ” 

“ I like him, too, but he is too slow ; there is no life 
in him ; he talks of books and philosophy, but I am no 
scholar or philosopher. I wish to enjoy life, and what 
pleasure in life can one find with such a man as he.” 

“ Look out, he may fall in love with you then,” cau- 
tioned Mrs. Curtis, who as a married woman thought 
she could give some advice. 

“ Oh, that is hardly likely ; such a man as he, is so 
occupied with his books and ideas that he has no time 
for love; I don’t know if he can love at all, and if he 
should fall in love with me the more fool he is,” said 
she with a gleam of mischief in her eye. 

He will not be the only fool, though, you have 
made a lot of fools at home,” said Mrs. Curtis, looking 
admiringly at her beautiful friend. 

“Well, I don’t force them to; I can not help it if 
men are so stupid.” And the friends soon parted, the 
Curtises setting out on their journey homeward. 


CHAPTER XXI 


EUGENE AND MAY 

A FEW days later Eugene called for the MS. It was 
a poem entitled Les Mineurs, and dealt with the hard- 
ships of this occupation, and related the unfortunate 
love of a young miner for his employer’s daughter. 

He called in the forenoon ; he had been a frequent 
visitor to the house, and needed not to stand on cere- 
mony with regard to the time of calling. Besides, he 
had to leave town in the afternoon for a few days, so he 
called earlier. 

May had retired late the preceding night, and 
got up rather late in the morning. She wore a fine, 
light, morning gown, which hung in graceful folds, al- 
lowing her freedom of motion, and slightly displaying a 
finely chiseled forearm of marble whiteness and great 
suppleness. Her hair had been just dressed and was 
still slightly wet. Her complexion was healthy and 
rosy, and her eye bright and clear; add to this her 
graceful, undulating movements, which hinted at gentle 
curves and an exquisitely modeled figure, and you have 
a complete picture of a healthy, charming type of wom- 
anhood. When he saw her first, it was in the glare of 
artificial light, surrounded by strangers. Now she was 
in the intimacy of home environments, carelessly and 
109 


I lO 


Social Sinners 


coquettishly attired, with a radiant smile on her rosy 
lips, displaying fine, pearly-white teeth, and it seemed 
to him that she was encircled by a halo, that she mag- 
netized, so to say, the very air around her and attracted 
by a mysterious, invisible power, the undefined and un- 
definable power of femininity, which stirs and quickens 
the pulses and entangles one as a helpless victim in its 
meshes. 

Thus, at his second visit, Eugene saw more of the 
woman than in the first, more than he had ever seen be- 
fore, and a shudder passed through him, like one to 
whom are suddenly revealed the most powerful, mystic 
secrets of nature. It was a vision for him both beauti- 
ful and terrible, which allured and frightened him. He 
stood gazing at her a few moments, as if transfixed, 
not finding anything to say. But she greeted him cor- 
dially, with the freedom peculiar to the American girl, 
when she is not in love with the man, saying : “ Good 
morning, M. de St. Denis; I am so sorry I was away 
when you called here last, but I had to go to see my 
friends off, and you must excuse me.” 

'' Oh, please don’t mention it,” said he, slightly em- 
barrassed by her steady look at him, and not having 
fully recovered yet from the first impressions, you 
must really excuse me for calling at such a time, but 
as I have to leave town for a short time, I thought to 
give myself the pleasure of seeing you first.” 

I am indeed exceedingly grateful to you for the 
compliment, and your visits are doubly welcome now 
that my friends have departed and I have very little 
congenial company.” 


Ill 


Eugene and May 

If my services are welcome to you, I put them en- 
tirely at your disposition, to be useful to you in any way 
you may desire,” said he with the gallantry peculiar to 
a Frenchman. 

“ Very well, I may put you to the test soon, and I am 
afraid you may not find it a very easy undertaking,” re- 
plied she, smiling. 

I shall be only too happy,” answered he, regaining 
his sang-froid and boldness. “ By the way, how did 
you find my manuscript ? I hope you did not fall asleep 
over it ? ” he remarked after a little pause. 

Oh, no! far from it,” said she, “ I enjoyed it im- 
mensely, only there is one thing in it which I do not 
approve, and that is a poor young man faling in love 
with a rich girl.” 

“ Is love a privilege of the rich only ? ” asked he in 
surprise. 

No, I don’t say that, but I mean to say that it is 
foolish for a woman to marry a poor man. A wealthy 
woman must have a fine home, comfort, and when she 
marries a poor man she is only miserable.” 

Eugene was astounded to hear this young woman 
talk in such a practical, calculating way. The charm 
had in an instant gone, and for a while she seemed to 
him a selfish, cold-hearted coquette, and he said rather 
sarcastically : I have read and heard that your 

countrymen are practical people, who bow to the 
Almighty dollar, but I had another opinion of 
your countrywomen; I see now that I have been mis- 
taken.” 

'' Oh, no I you are entirely mistaken, I care nothing 


1 1 2 Social Sinners 

for money, but I wish to enjoy life,” answered she re- 
sentfully. 

“ But suppose you should happen to fall in love with a 
poor young man, what would you do? ” asked he. 

Marry him, of course ; but I will try not to.” 

Do you suppose that marriage should be a busi- 
ness transaction ? ” asked he, curious to know as an 
observer, thought he, her views on the subject. 

“ It should be both, love and business, ” answered 
she unhesitatingly. 

Eugene had no intention of falling in love with the 
American beauty, or to speak more correctly, he had 
no idea then that he was falling in love with her, 
and thought he was conversing with her and dis- 
coursing on the delicate subject of love very naturally, 
as young people will drift to this topic, especially 
when discussing a love story, yet he felt greatly hurt 
to hear her entertain such practical views, more so 
than if such views had been held by an old ugly maid, 
or if he had known himself to be wealthy. 

Well, ” thought he to himself, '' she is only a sel- 
fish creature, and unfortunate will be the one who falls 
a victim to her physical charms.” And he was about 
to go away. Had he done so then and there, this 
history would probably have ended here; but at that 
moment Mr. Remington entered, and as it was dinner 
time the young man was persuaded by the host and 
hostess to stay to dinner. 

During the meal May was gay, vivacious and put 
them all in good humor. Eugene forgot her practical 
views, or if he recollected them, he dismissed them 


Eugene and May 1 1 3 

by saying inwardly : “ It would be indeed a pity that 
such a lovely creature should live in want and misery. 
She is at least frank in expressing her views, and if 
she should fall in love and marry, she will surely 
make a good wife, ” and he chatted gaily with those 
around the table till the time for his departure came. 
When he was taking leave of her she said ; “ Please 
call again, I hope you will not think badly of me 
on account of my practical ideas. I told you the 
first time when we met that you would be disappointed 
in me if you knew me a little longer. ” 

“ I hope that on further acquaintance with you I 
shall be disappointed in your faults and will consider 
them as your qualities, ” said he with a smile, and 
left the room. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE MOTH AND THE CANDLE 

When Eugene returned to Paris after a week’s ab- 
sence on business, he was debating within himself 
whether or not he should continue his visits to the 
beautiful American. Of course, he did not think there 
was any danger for him. He was not matrimonially 
inclined, and was too honorable to think of obtaining 
the object of his love by dishonorable means, and he 
therefore thought that he was running no risk of 
falling a victim to the charms of the American maid, 
as he believed that with a strong will power this 
could not happen, unless one unbridled his self-con- 
trol. 

Poets are habitually regarded as having a great 
foible for the softer sex, whose charms they like to 
sing, and by doing this become a prey to their own 
fancy. But as we said before, our poet was not of 
the ordinary kind, — he mingled a grain of philosophy 
with his poesy, and he felt himself secure against a 
temptation that would bring only suffering and misery. 
But a poet he was, and admired greatly the beautiful 
and above all the natural, in contradistinction to the 
artificial beauty. He considered May, the more he 
saw of her, as a type of savage, unhampered, un- 
114 


The Moth and the Candle 1 1 5 

stunted beauty, left freely to its full growth and de- 
velopment, with no restraint on her individuality, ex- 
cept such as her own fancy might have suggested at 
any moment; and he was such an admirer and ad- 
vocate of full individual development and liberty, 
physical and intellectual, and he considered her such 
a fine specimen of American freedom, which puts no 
bridle on its sons and daughters, unlike the effete 
Europe with its paternal governments, which take the 
individual under their wings, from his birth till his 
death and even afterwards, regulating his motions 
and thoughts, — ^that he thought, on the one hand, since 
there was no personal risk to him, he might as well 
cultivate her acquaintance further and learn more of 
her ways and propensities. On the other hand — but 
let us hear his own reasoning: 

Of course there is no danger of my falling in love 
with her, ” reasoned he to himself, for what sense 
would there be for an obscure little author to fall in 
love with a dazzling beauty who wishes to shine in 
high life? Besides, it is not the time for me to fall in 
love with anybody. But the question is why should I 
go to see her? What have we in common to make it 
interesting for each other? I am a dreamy, slow 
fellow ; she, a gay, lively body, very little given to deep 
thought and introspection. ” So thinking he was re- 
solved not to see her any more. 

But then the other idea crossed his mind : “ After 

all, why not go and enjoy her company? She is 
certainly charming and highly interesting, and there 
is no harm in such innocent pleasure; besides, there 


Social Sinners 


ii6 

is a good opportunity to study a new type of woman- 
kind, grown and developed across the ocean, ” and 
so saying he involuntarily bent his steps towards the 
object of his thoughts. 

He lived in an apartment with his mother in the 
Rue St. Honore and on a fine day liked to walk. As 
he walked along that day he came across some 
wretched dwellings, with their poverty-stricken, hag- 
gard, half-starved and half-dressed inmates, and on 
beholding the sallow, sickly faces of the women and 
children, he thought to himself: “Yes, she is right; 
.there is too much poverty and misery in the world, 
and what right has a poor man to love, to marry and 
to bring forth a family? A woman in poverty is like 
a flower in a scorching sun and without water; 
she fades, sickens and dies or drags along a miserable 
existence. Yes, those Yankee women are practical, 
like the men, and they can hardly be blamed for 
it. ” And so musing he reached the place of his 
destination. 

Near the entrance he saw a carriage with horses 
waiting, and wondered whether there was a visitor. 
It was in the afternoon. He rang the bell and was 
shown in. May was dressed and ready to go out with 
Mrs. Remington for an afternoon drive. She was as 
charming as before, with the difference that when he 
saw her last, her dress suggested femininity and love, 
and now her femininity was decked in regal splendor, 
which awes and subjugates, without, at the same time, 
losing the subtle, mysterious force of the sex which 
intoxicates and attracts. 


The Moth and the Candle 117 

She wore a close fitting gray gown, which showed 
to advantage her elegant, shapely, elastic body, and 
on her beautiful head, crowned with rich auburn hair, 
she had a fine, large hat which, in addition to the 
half-drawn up veil on her face, half-shaded the upper 
part of it, and enhanced its beauty and allurement b^i 
revealing and suggesting slightly, leaving the beholder 
lost in conjectures as to the rest. 

In her presence Eugene forgot his philosophy and 
the whole world, and had eyes for her alone. 

She greeted him cordially this time also as at the 
last, and excused herself for going away, pleading 
ignorance of his coming. She also inquired concern- 
ing the success of his journey; to all of which he 
answered in a rather inaudible voice and incoherently, 
so much perturbed was he by the sight of the woman. 
She, however, mistook it for dullness and apathy and 
was beginning to think, That little chap is really dull 
and slow-witted — ” when Mrs. Remington entered, 
fully dressed, and after greeting him and saying a few 
words, invited him to ride in their carriage, as there 
was room enough. He accepted with alacrity. 

May was not greatly pleased at first. “ He will 
spoil my pleasure with his dullness, ” thought she, but, 
of course, said nothing and put on a smiling face. 
During the drive, however, owing to the fresh breeze 
and the pleasant company, he fully regained his self- 
possession and was very gay and lively, which helped 
to rehabilitate him greatly in May's eyes. As they 
passed along the boulevards, the American maid at- 
tracted a great deal of notice, and the little Frenchmen 


Social Sinners 


ii8 

feasted their little black optics on her, escorting her 
with their regards as far as they saw, and remarking 
to one another, “ Qu’elle est belle, mon Dieu ! 

They all returned home from their drive in high 
spirits. Needless, perhaps, to say that Eugene was 
invited by both ladies to call again, and that he 
accepted the invitation and did call. His visits then 
became very frequent, and later he began to go 
out with May alone, thinking all the time he was 
simply having some distraction and at the same time 
studying a new type of womanhood. 

On further acquaintance, she found his company 
more congenial and was glad to avail herself of him, 
for the lack of something better. They visited to- 
gether the Louvre and other museums, and as an 
educated Parisian he gave her very interesting in- 
formation about a number of things. They also went 
to see Napoleon’s tomb, and on entering the solemn 
sanctuary with the inlaid marble floor and the marble 
columns, with its soft, subdued sunlight streaming in 
from above, and on beholding the vase-like sarcopha- 
gus in which lie the remains of the Great Emperor, 
she was filled with awe and admiration for French 
art, for Frenchmen in general, and for her companion in 
particular. She asked him many questions, which he 
answered to her fullest satisfaction. 

Whenever you will come to our country, I will 
show you everything there, ” she said to him in 
ecstacy, when they went out in the open air. 

You will perhaps be ashamed to show yourself 
on the street with me in your country, for what am 


The Moth and the Candle 119 

I? a poor Frenchman, and you the daughter of a 
judge, a powerful man in your land, ” said he, half- 
jesting and half-bitterly. 

“ Oh, don’t be so silly, ” retorted she in an offended 
tone ; “ ours is a free country, the rich and the poor 
are alike. ” 

‘'Yet you said yourself you would not fall in love 
with a poor man. ” 

“ Oh, you silly boy, ” answered she, looking at him 
roguishly, “ You remember such things, and I have 
long forgotten them. Saying and doing are two 
different things. Besides, marriage is something else, 
as one is bound for a life time. ” 

Her equivocal answer made him guess whether or 
not she had changed her views expressed at their 
second meeting with regard to a woman’s falling in 
love with a poor man. As it was growing late, and, 
besides, as he thought that this question did not con- 
cern him directly, he did not press her for a direct 
answer. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A LAST OPPORTUNITY 

Two months passed by, Eugene spending the time 
in May’s company whenever she was not otherwise 
engaged, and as her circle of acquaintances was not 
very extensive, they spent a great deal of time to- 
gether. The Remingtons looked on and smiled; they 
suspected that a match would be the result, which they 
thought would be an excellent thing for both the 
young people. May, they knew, was of a wilful, rest- 
less, vivacious nature, which if blended with Eugene’s 
steadiness, calmness, and serenity would make a har- 
monious whole, and they also surmised that if she 
should happen to love the man, she would make a 
good wife. 

Eugene’s mother, a fine old motherly woman, noticed 
his frequent and protracted absences, as well as his 
neglect of work, and gleaned the truth. One morning 
she said to him : My son, I notice that you stay 
away from home more than usual. I am afraid that 
it may do you no good. ” 

“ Never mind mother, I will soon go to work 
again; I am sure a young man can have some dis- 
traction for a while. ” 

“ Oh, if it were only for a while, ” retorted the good 


120 


I2I 


A Last Opportunity 

lady, shaking her head, but I fear, my son, that that 
little distraction may lead you too far. ” 

“ Why so, mother ? asked he uneasily. 

I know, my son, no good ever comes from such 
flirtations, and the marriages with these foreigners 
are still worse ; we don’t know who they are and what 
they are. ” 

“ Mother, please, don’t talk in this way ; if you 
allude to Miss Clayton, you know she is of good 
family. But this is immaterial to me, for I have no 
matrimonial intentions with regard to her. ” 

'' I pray to God that all may end well,” said the 
good lady religiously. 

Eugene was deceiving himself right along with the 
idea that his heart was safe in respect to the charming 
American, and that he could easily part from her and 
have only friendly reminiscences. As the time ap- 
proached, however, for her departure for America — as 
she had to be home by New Year’s Day — he grew un- 
easy, and began to ask himself the question whether 
he was not more affected than he had thought at first. 
But as she was to stay yet a few weeks, he thought 
there was no need for him to anticipate events. He 
would visit her till the end of her stay, and then if 
the parting should prove harder than he had sus- 
pected, there was time enough to be miserable. 

About the latter part of November, on a fine, crispy 
afternoon, they took a small steamer, called Bateau- 
Mouche, on the Seine, near the Trocadero, and went 
down the river as far as the boat took them, alighting 
in the country, in a fine grove, near the banks. May 


122 


Social Sinners 


jumped with delight at the beautiful country scenery, 
like a school girl, and her hilarity was communicated 
to Eugene, who tried to outdo her in gayety. 

The grove was situated on a hill, at one side of 
which flowed the Seine, while on the other it sloped 
down gently into arable land, where a few little white 
houses inhabited by farmers could be seen at a dis- 
tance. The trees were devoid of leaves, which, yellow 
and dried, covered the ground, and gave rise to an 
agreeable rustling sound as they were trodden upon. 
The brisk breeze caused the naked tops of the tall 
poplars to sway to and fro and to emit a peculiar 
sigh as if communicating to one another their long 
sufferings and sorrows. All this was so romantic and 
so impressed our young people that they were fairly 
intoxicated with joy and hardly knew how to give 
vent to their exuberant feelings. After running and 
jumping and dancing around till they worked off 
their buoyancy of spirits, they sat down on a log 
facing the river for a rest. The sun was already 
setting in the west, and the horizon was covered with 
a red, glowing light. All around was still. The 
whole scene was one of serenity and grandeur, so as 
to impress even the most thoughtless and conceited 
with his insignificance. May fell into a reverie, a 
thing not very usual with her. Eugene watched her 
for a while, and then said: 

“ May I help you think ? 

'' Yes, if you like. I have been thinking how nice 
it would be to live in such a place, far away from 
the turmoil and follies of the city. ” 


123 


A Last Opportunity 

“ I see that this place has the effect of making 
you quite romantic, remarked he banteringly. “ If 
I remember aright, your inclinations are not toward 
such a mode of existence. 

Of course, '' replied she, “ I might not like it for 
always, but just for a change. Would you like to live 
always in the country ? ” 

“ I think I would with my bien aimee,’’ (well be- 
loved), answered he with a significant look at her, 
which she seemed not to perceive. “ Yes,” continued 
the young man, “ the country has always been my 
ideal. The people here may lack the external polish 
of the city folks, but they have in them something 
much better — they have not been so much corrupted 
by false civilization. ” 

“ Oh, he already begins his philosophy,” thought 
she to herself, and aloud she said ; “ I think we are 
all right. I don’t see in what we are spoiled. Of 
course, we have our faults, and I know I have mine, 
but I don’t always mean what I say. I would not 
mind living in the country with the man I love. ” 

‘‘ Oh, no ! I don’t say civilization has spoiled you, 
ma chere, — ^you are faultless. ” 

It was the first time he addressed her as ma chere, 
and she seemed to take it as a matter of course. They 
thus sat for a long while, talking and joking about 
trivial matters, and were both in the best humor. 
Her fine, shapely, supple hand in an unaccountable 
way found itself suddenly in his. She had taken off 
the gloves before, to have more freedom in her move- 
ments, and her naked hand sent a thrill through his 


124 


Social Sinners 


whole body. She also experienced a similiar feeling, 
for he was a fine young man, and though he lacked 
the animality and brutal force to inflame the tender 
passions of such a woman as the American maid, 
whose ideas with regard to physical development were 
such as are generally entertained by many of her 
countrymen with whom a champion prize-fighter is a 
very popular and important person, yet Eugene could 
not be unpleasant to any woman, — and the strange 
land and poetic environments cast an enchanting spell 
on the young woman, so that with half-closed eyes, 
slightly inclined head and a voluptuous smile on her 
slightly parted red lips she remained sitting, letting 
him hold her hand and returning gently his grip. 

The touch of her hand electrified him ; he felt his 
heart beat painfully, his head throb, his face burning 
as on fire, — he was drunk, dizzy and suffocating with a 
burning desire to embrace this lovely fonn in his 
arms, to have her close to him. His strength failed 
him, he could struggle no longer against the uncon- 
querable, terrible temptation, and, throwing his arms 
around her beautiful neck, imprinted a passionate kiss 
on her hot lips. She wrenched herself suddenly from 
his embrace, jumped up from her seat and said pout- 
ingly ; '' Please, stop that ! I would never expect it 
from you, M. de St. Denis, ’’ and she blushed furiously. 

Now had he been versed in the ways of feminine 
warfare, or had he been determined in his purpose 
and of a stronger nature, he would have followed up 
her remonstrance — which was really very mild — by a 
fervent protestation of love and, if successful, by a 


125 


A Last Opportunity 

repetition of the osculatory procedure, and he might 
have succeeded very well, for she was then in the con- 
dition of a foe who is on the point of surrendering, 
if the adversary should make a vigorous, determined 
attack. But Eugene had never had any dealings with 
the fair sex before, and after he had been sobered by 
her reprimand, which he naively mistook for great 
anger and scorn, he thought he had committed a dis- 
honorable act in thus taking advantage of a young lady, 
who had entrusted herself to his protection, and he 
therefore became confused, uttered a scarcely audible, 
foolish excuse, and looked very sheepish. He did 
not realize then that he lost his best chance with 
the maiden, who regarded him, and quite justly, as a 
fool who did not know how to make love. 

Some maidens, and a great many of them are found 
in our free land, hate the bashful, timid, girlish man, 
but admire the dashing, bold kind of the genus ; and if 
the latter are not always successful in their attempts 
with the tender sex, they at least get credit by the 
latter for their boldness and valor, whereas the 
timid, shrinking fellow is simply voted down by them 
as a fool. 

It must not be understood, however, that St. Denis 
was a coward. On the contrary, he was morally 
and physically brave, but in this case his hesitation 
was due, as was said before, to conscientious scruples. 
First, he thought it rather cowardly to take advantage 
of a girl who was alone with him and whom he was 
in duty bound to protect. Secondly, he had not made 
up his mind whether or no he was right in giving vent 


126 


Social Sinners 


to his feelings which he had striven to hide even 
from himself, and, besides, was not even certain 
whether he really loved, — considerations which enter 
into the mind of the slow young man before he 
decides to lay real siege to a woman’s heart, and 
which seem ridiculous to the dashing and fast kind 
whose motto is Always go ahead.” 

Soon after the osculatory incident they gained the 
boat and went home, each of them more or less pre- 
occupied with thoughts, making only now and then brief 
remarks to each other on trivial subjects, and apparent- 
ly ignoring altogether that incident. Near her house 
they parted quite friendly as usual, and he went away 
wondering what she thought of the matter, and 
whether she would forgive him for it. 

He soon met her again, and she seemed to have for- 
gotten the occurrence. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE LETTER 

A FEW more weeks sped by, during which Eugene 
continued to see May, and she treated him as cordially 
as previously, as if nothing had happened. Mean- 
while the time drew nigh for her departure, and the 
more he realized the fact that she was soon to part 
from him, perhaps for ever, the more uneasy he grew, 
and the less reconciled he became to the fact. 

Had he been aware of the true state of her feelings 
toward him, he thought, he could have easily decided 
what to do. But this was the hardest problem for 
him to solve. 

As the time for her departure ‘ approached, he 
imagined he could see she was getting rather pale and 
losing something of her former buoyancy. 

“ Yes, she loves me, ’’ would he say to himself, re- 
calling a hundred and one incidents in their inter- 
course, which indicated to him plainly that she had a 
tender corner in her heart for him; and the idea of 
having gained the love of such a charming woman 
would fill him with ecstacy, and cause his whole being 
to throb with joy and excitement. Then another 
thought would suddenly cross his mind with a pang. 

No, she hardly cares for me — why should she ? 

127 


128 


Social Sinners 


What am I ? An obscure little author, and she desires 
a better fate than to bind herself to me. She wants 
to shine in society, and how can she waste her life 
on me ? ” He would recall a hundred and one occur- 
rences which he thought proved that she would not 
have him. But suppose she loves me, have I the 
right to retreat now? Would it not be cowardly for 
me to do so? Would she not hate and curse me her 
whole life for the misery caused her ? would he think 
again. 

He considered the kiss which he had given as a 
confession of his love and as a pledge of his honor, 
constancy and truthfulness, which pledge he was 
in duty bound to make good. He was thus un- 
consciously having recourse to the hypocrisy to which 
most of us resort in trying to cover our selfish 
impulses with high and noble motives. If the sub- 
ject of Eugene’s thoughts had been an old, ugly and 
dull maid he probably would not, with all his honor, 
have looked for noble motives to compel himself to ful- 
fill his pledge. 

Again, the thought would cross his mind that per- 
haps she would never forgive him the liberty he had 
taken with her, and he would greatly reproach himself 
for having been so weak and ungentlemanly in his be- 
havior. Poor fellow ! He had never kissed a woman 
before, except his mother or a'relatiye, and was inno- 
cently ignorant of the fact that with many a young 
woman now-a-days an osculatory operation, provided 
it be performed by a fine young man, is not an un- 
bearable calamity. 


The Letter 


1 29 

He was thus a prey to many conflicting thoughts 
and emotions, and spent many sleepless nights in 
roaming in the streets or in tossing on his bed, de- 
bating the subject within himself and not being 
able to reach any satisfactory conclusion. 

Meanwhile the time had flown by till only a few 
days remained for her to stay in Paris, so he at last 
resolved to write her. After having begun a half- 
dozen letters and torn up as many he decided on the 
following one as the most satisfactory to himself : 

“ Ma chere : 

“ It is impossible for me to refrain any longer from 
expressing to you my sentiments which I have tried 
to suppress within myself or at least to hide from 
you. 

“ Alas ! I tremble at the thought that my feelings 
may not be reciprocated by you, for then life will be 
a dreary desert for me without a ray of hope and a 
gleam of happiness. Unfortunately or fortunately, 
that which I had not anticipated, but which I should 
have foreseen, has come to pass. But how could it 
have been otherwise ? Can a human being be brought 
in contact with such loveliness and perfection and yet 
remain indifferent, untouched? No, a thousand times 
no! 

I see now that life without you is impossible for 
me. As the time for your departure approaches I 
feel the void that is being formed around me and 
within me. Not till now have I realized how dear 
you are to me, and that I love you with all the tender- 
ness and ardor of which man is capable! 

“ The time comes in every man’s life when he meets 
the woman who becomes either his angel or his 
satan. I have reached now such a critical condition. 


130 


Social Sinners 


It lies with you now either to become my guiding 
star, to fill me with supreme bliss, to elevate my soul and 
to inspire me to noble and great deeds, or to pre- 
cipitate me to the hideous gulf of ruin and misery, 
to annihilate and crush my very existence and to make 
life for me a torture. Which shall it be? I await 
your answer with the greatest anxiety and trepidation. 

Eugene.'" 

Having sealed and stamped the epistle, he carried it 
precautiously, as if his whole life depended on it, 
to the nearest letter-box. When about to post it, he 
paused for a while, examined again the address, 
hesitated a few seconds, then with a sudden movement 
he dropped it in the box. Immediately he was over- 
come by a desire to get it back, as he did not like 
some things he had written there, and besides he 
thought he was only making a fool of himself in 
sending a letter, as she most assuredly cared not for 
him. He looked under the lid of the box to see if his 
missive had not* stuck there, so that he might with- 
draw it ; but it was away on the bottom of the box, and 
he could not reach it. He then thought for a mo- 
ment ‘to apply to the post-office authorities to inter- 
cept the letter, but he soon gave up this idea as im- 
practicable, and went home resigned to wait patiently 
for an answer. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE ANSWER 

May received the letter in the morning with her 
coffee, and, on recognizing the handwriting, under- 
stood, with a woman’s intuition, what its purport was. 

She read it over with an amused smile. ‘‘ Quel 
drole de bonhomme ! Quel enfantillage ! ” thought 
she in French, with which tongue she was quite 
familiar. 

“ My friend, Mrs. Curtis, had told me it would come 
to that, but as I said then the more fool he. But 
let me read over again the letter. ” And she read it 
a second time. 

“ It is really childish and very droll,” soliloquized 
she, this time in her vernacular. “ The others, in my 
country, did the business personally, verbally, and he 
uses pen and ink. I will keep it as a souvenir of gay 
Paris, ” and so saying she folded up the epistle, re- 
placed it in the envelope and continued sipping her 
coffee. Of course she was going to answer the letter, 
and she was thinking how to express it. As to the 
kind of answer, her mind had been made up already. 

The only time that she experienced towards him 
feelings somewhat akin to love was when they were 
sitting together that afternoon in the grove, and it was 


132 


Social Sinners 


then due to the fact that she was rather romantically 
inclined, and as he was the only available man, he 
was the participant of these inclinations. Had he then 
made a vigorous attack on her heart, he might perhaps 
have succeeded, for he was by no means unpleasant 
to her, and as she was of a wilful, impulsive nature, 
she might, under the stress of the moment, have 
surrendered. She knew her father would never 
sanction such an attachment, for he desired her to 
marry a wealthy, influential man; but this was of 
secondary consideration with her, as the prospect of a 
struggle in order to gain her own point was not dread- 
ful or even unwelcome to her aggressive, imperious 
temper. Had the disparity in their stations in life 
been much greater, she might have liked it better, 
for then it would have created a greater sensation in 
the American newspapers, and she would have been a 
great heroine, much spoken of. She knew of one 
millionaire’s daughter who eloped with and married a 
coachman, another again ran off with an acrobat, and 
many other similar cases. Were not the papers full 
of them! And she imagined what the papers would 
say about her, the popular Miss Clayton, who was 
the belle of Newport for a few seasons ! But she 
was afraid that if she should throw herself away on 
the little French poet, she might evoke only a smile and 
a shrug of the shoulders, and the whole thing would 
end there. Therefore, if a sentimental wave had 
momentarily swept over her while under the influence 
of a romantic spell in the woods, she quickly regained 
her senses as soon as they entered town, by the sight 


The Answer 


133 

of the grand mansions, the elegant equipages with 
the liveried footmen, and a thousand and one things 
which make up the life of the opulent and the power- 
ful. All that was within her reach, and why and for 
what should she throw it away? Of course she had 
no animosity towards her French lover, for with her 
woman’s insight she knew he loved her, even before 
he had declared it plainly, but she could consider 
him only as a fine, obliging young man and that 
was all. 

Did her conscience reproach her perhaps for having 
received too many attentions from him and for having 
occasionally even flirted a little with him? Certainly 
not. All her friends and acquaintances have many 
gentlemen friends with whom they flirt and have a 
jolly time, and whom they throw overboard when the 
time comes. At first, when she thought about the 
kiss he stole from her, she felt a little indignant at his 
impudence, as she had not expected from him such 
boldness as from some of her gentlemen friends of a 
more agressive temper, but it did not rankle in her 
maiden breast very much. She considered him a 
friend and how could it hurt her? She had a vivid 
recollection of the fine afternoons she. and some of her 
friends of both sexes spent together in her house or 
in that of a friend. They would amuse themselves by 
singing and dancing till it got dark, when they loved to 
sit quietly in twos in different corners of the big, unlit 
room, the stillness being broken only occasionally by 
a stifled sound resembling a smack of the lips, and 
once a wag of their own company suddenly lit a 


Social Sinners 


134 

match, and they were all found in the queerest and 
funniest positions, which made them all laugh after- 
wards for weeks. Of course, young people must 
have fun, the world is not made to sit and mope in 
it. Men and women should associate freely, that will 
conduce to morality, and to happy marriages. Our 
fathers were old fashioned and slow, but we are so 
bright, so full of fun! 

And when she remembered how sheepish he looked 
when she rebuked him for his temerity, she burst out 
laughing. 

“ The silly boy got so confused, he could not say 
a word, said she to herself in fits of laughter, and 
she stored the incident in a corner of her brain in 
order to communicate it to some of her bosom friends 
and to have a merry laugh over it. 

Though she had her answer ready, she did not 
write immediately, first, to make him believe she had 
given his letter full consideration, and, secondly, she 
wished her answer should reach him when she was 
already away, as she wished to avoid a scene, in case, 
on receiving the unfavorable answer, he should take 
it into his silly head to come and plead with her per- 
sonally. 

On the eve of her departure, she wrote him the 
following letter which she did in fine, school-girl, hand- 
writing, and according to all the rules laid down by 
a guide to letterwriting, which she studied under 
her wise teachers in her academy, and from which 
she memorized some portions for just such emer- 
gencies : 


The Answer 135 

Paris, 18 — 

“To M. de St. Denis, 

“ Rue St. Honore, No. — 

“ My Dear Sir : 

“ Yours of the — inst. was duly received. I regret 
to say that I notice in your letter an expression of 
sentiments with regard to myself which are utterly 
unwarranted and for which I have not, as far as I am 
aware, given you any pretext. I have never thought 
of you otherwise than as a friend, and had no idea 
that you entertained towards me any feelings deeper 
than those of mere friendship. 

“ Much as I feel honored by what you write to 
me, I am sorry to say that I can offer you only 
feelings of friendship in return and to such you are 
welcome. I am exceedingly grateful to you for the 
pleasure afforded to me by your companionship and 
for your kindness in showing me around your charm- 
ing city. If you should ever come to our city I 
shall be highly pleased and happy to repay you for 
your kindness. As in all probability this will reach 
you when I am already gone, not having had, to my 
great mortification, the time to write you earlier, I 
hereby bid you good-bye, and wishing you happiness 
and great success in your literary work, I am. 

Yours very truly. 

May Clayton.’" 

She had not mailed the answer till the following 
morning, a few hours before she left, for reasons 
already known to the reader. 

Eugene meanwhile had neither tasted a morsel of food 
nor slept a wink. After he had mailed his letter in 
the evening he was rather disappointed that on the 
following morning the mail carrier did not bring him 


Social Sinners 


136 

an answer from her, though he could easily know that 
by that time she was just getting or perhaps reading 
his epistle. He was unable to do anything, was rest- 
less and had to be constantly on the go, in order to 
forget himself for a while. Whenever he saw a mail 
carrier his heart would give a sudden thump, and then 
almost stand still with anxiety and emotion; and when 
he would see there was nothing for him, he would 
resume again his aimless wanderings around the 
house, for he feared to go away lest a letter should 
come in his absence. 

Two days passed, and no letter. “ Will she 
answer?” wondered he. He thought of going to her 
personally, but restrained himself ; then he imagined 
she was sick, perhaps dying, “ for why does she not 
write ? ” 

Finally the mail carrier handed him a letter. He 
glanced at it, and recognized her writing. He 
trembled with fear and anxiety. He staggered to his 
room and with shaking hands opened the envelope. 
He paused for a while before he mustered courage 
to read; he had evil forebodings at the sight of the 
missive. Finally he read it through — once, then a 
second and a third time. All color left his face, his 
heart stood still, and he remained petrified, not being 
able to realize clearly what had happened. 

After awhile he became fully conscious of his 
position; tears welled up in his eyes, and he muttered 
to himself, “ I am ruined for ever. ” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


A CANDIDATE 

The political campaign in New York and all over 
the United States was at its height. 

Mr. Silverton had contributed a handsome sum to 
his party, and his son-in-law, Frederick Curtis, was 
nominated for Congress. Though there were many 
parties in the field the struggle was practically between 
two only, as the rest were too weak in numbers and 
in force to have any chance of success, and they put 
up their candidates simply as a matter of form. 

An unsophisticated observer, not well versed in 
politics, could not easily determine wherein the chief 
contending parties differed, as their principles and 
platforms, with the exception of the difference in 
verbiage, and a few planks thrown in as a blind, were 
very similar. Yet the two parties abused each other 
so vehemently that to hear one side only, one might 
think that their rivals were the greatest blackguards 
and rascals in the world, and they themselves 
saints. It has been well said by some one that if one 
wants to find out about himself things of which he 
is not aware, let him run for an elective office in the 
United States. If the candidate ever made a state- 
ment or committed a peccadillo of which he thought 

137 


Social Sinners 


138 

little and forgot about, he should not be surprised to 
find it reported in black and white in an antagonistic 
newspaper and the little mole transformed into a 
mountain. The history of his ancestors will be gone 
into in detail, and if his grandfather married a red- 
headed girl, or fell asleep in church while the parson 
was delivering a sermon on the missionary work 
among the Hottentots, he should not be surprised to 
hear himself called a descendant of a ruffianly, sacri- 
legious ancestor. 

Curtis, who was a strong, energetic fellow, fought 
heroically and desperately for his election. He had 
prepared, at the beginning of the campaign, three 
speeches, the main ideas of which had been suggested 
to him from his party’s headquarters — as a candidate 
need not trouble himself with original ideas, since the 
party tells him what he has to say and do — , but he 
added a few jokes, and a few rhetorical passages, and 
these he delivered — now the one, then the other, ac- 
cording to the audience — in ten different places, every 
evening, during the whole campaign. At the end he 
became hoarse and spoke in a whisper, and had the 
campaign lasted much longer, he would have lost his 
voice altogether. 

His opponent was a very hard man to beat, and 
Curtis knew it. He was Curtis’s inferior in physical 
strength and in education, but he had been in politics 
for many years, was supported by a strong organiza- 
tion which bore his name, and, above all, had a great 
reputation of being very kind-hearted and disposed to 
do favors to people. Indeed, he freely gave letters of 


A Candidate 


139 


recommendation to those who wanted to get positions, 
and if his letters seldom procured a position for the 
applicant, it was not his fault; he took the trouble to 
tell his secretary to write the letter. 

His kindness to women, especially the young and 
pretty ones, was remarkable. He was married and the 
father of a large family, and knowing from experience 
that it is no fun to be a woman, he lavished his affec- 
tion on the tender sex, trying to help them in every 
way. If the lady was single, and pretty, knowing the 
difficulties a maiden encounters now-a-days till she 
finds her ideal, he would kindly offer himself as a vic- 
tim to supply the want. If she was married, knowing 
again from experience how thorny is often the path 
of a husband, he would be willing to share with the 
unfortunate his onerous duties — with what success we 
cannot say. 

No wonder, then, when they spoke of him in his dis- 
trict, they would say, “ Oh, he is a very nice man, such 
a nice man ! ” 

Curtis was still a novice in politics. Of course, it 
would not take him very long to learn the art of get- 
ting votes, but he had to serve his apprenticeship, and 
he therefore had a very hard fight during that election. 

His office in the daytime was usually crowded by 
people who came to see him with regard to the elec- 
tion. Politicians, prospective voters, who came to see 
what he could do for them if they voted for him ; re- 
porters; spies from the rival party, — a motley crowd 
visited his office, as in the great Republic people flock 
to a man who may some day become powerful, and 


140 


Social Sinners 


still more so, of course, to the one who is already so. 
But few women had come to see him, as he had not 
yet been in a position to do for them anything politi- 
cally. 

One day when the time for the election was near, 
his office was crowded with visitors, and among them 
was a woman with an infant in her arms, 

A woman with a babe is not an extraordinary ap- 
parition in New York, and yet in some cases she will 
attract much attention, and this was the case here. 
The woman was evidently yet young, though a few 
wrinkles on her forehead and the slightly drooping 
angles of the mouth denoted that her life had not been 
unalloyed with some grief. Her carriage was erect 
and her mien haughty and scornful. The occasional 
twitching of her facial muscles showed that she was 
laboring under some agitation. She was dressed in 
black, while her baby was wrapped in white and thus 
formed a marked contrast to the mother’s attire. It 
was inclined to be cross and cried a great deal, as 
babies will very often at very inopportune moments, 
to our great annoyance. All this taken together nat- 
urally made the woman and her babe the centre of 
attraction, and caused those present to stare at them 
and to indulge in mental comments. 

A wire puller come to ask Curtis, in case he is 
elected, for a position for her husband,” thought some. 

Wants probably the nominee for congress to inter- 
cede for husband, who was arrested for drunkenness,” 
surmised others. 

At last the door opened and Curtis, all flushed from 


A Candidate 


141 


haste, as he was delayed at a conference with some 
politicians and came late, rushed into the waiting 
room. 

On seeing the woman with the infant, who quickly 
got up as he entered, he turned deathly pale, and was 
rooted to the spot, — but only for a moment, for he soon 
recovered, and, advancing to the female visitor with a 
sang-froid, he said firmly : “If you want to see me, 
madam, please step into the office.’’ 

The woman was evidently so agitated and excited, 
as could be seen by the change of color in her face 
from red to livid, and by the quiver which passed 
through her whole body, that she stood speechless, 
unable to give vent to her pent up emotions. After 
a few moments she somewhat regained her voice and 
said, trembling : “ I find you at last ; you will r ” 

He gave her one of those determined, insolent looks 
of his, with which he cowed and unnerved a weaker 
opponent, and to which was in some measure due his 
success in contests with his mates. She was also 
greatly embarrassed by the fixed gaze of the many 
spectators and the cries of the babe, which suddenly 
began to yell, and therefore when he interrupted her 
by saying, “ Well, madam, I can not stop to talk with 
you here, if you wish to say something step into my 
office,” she obeyed automatically and followed him to 
his private room, the door of which he carefully closed 
after them, and pointed to a chair at the remotest cor- 
ner, lest their conversation should be overheard. 

As soon as they disappeared in the other room, the 
spectators exchanged among themselves significant 


142 


Social Sinners 


glances. There were among them there a few re- 
porters, two of them representatives of papers belong- 
ing to the rival party. They were wide awake, alert 
fellows, who needed not to have a story repeated to 
them twice, but could make up the whole from a part, 
and, when the occasion demanded, they drew freely 
on their imagination for the rest. In five minutes they 
had their story ready and in half an hour it was circu- 
lated in the evening papers, where under six head-lines, 
in two columns, which were said to be only provisional, 
promising more details in a larger instalment in the 
next number, it was described how the candidate had 
maltreated and deserted a woman with a half dozen 
children, and how in all probability more victims would 
soon appear, and that it all happened as the paper had 
predicted. 

In the private office meanwhile the following took 
place between Curtis and the woman, who, as the 
reader must have guessed it, was no other than our 
old acquaintance, Barbara. She had been working all 
the time in a neighboring town, having left her baby 
with a nurse, but having learned from newspapers 
of the whereabouts and movements of Curtis, she came 
to confront him, and also brought the infant along. 

'' So, I find you at last, my fine gentleman,” began 
she in a high pitched voice, “ and you are running for 
Congress. A fine congressman you’ll be ! ” 

Barbara, stop that ” 

'"Stop, you say? Dog! Rascal! You will run away 
from your own child, and marry some one else!” 


A Candidate 


143 

hissed she, giving free vent to the accumulated and 
pent up passions and hatred. 

Curtis trembled in all his limbs; he felt like a pris- 
oner before the bar of justice. He knew he was guilty. 
At another time, however, he might have been tempted 
to kick the woman out and take the consequences, but 
at this time of the election he was afraid of a scandal, 
and he therefore swallowed the insults, and, forgetting 
his pride had again, as he had already done once, re- 
course to conciliatory tactics, and after the woman had 
worked off a little her anger, he said: 

“ My dear Barbara, don’t judge me so cruelly before 
you have given me a chance to say a few words. There 
must have been some cruel mistake somewhere, for I 
wrote to you many times when you were in that in- 
stitution, and never got an answer, then I went to see 
you myself, and they told me you were gone. I looked 
for you high and low but all in vain ; then my parents 
began to threaten me with disowning me if I didn’t 
marry that woman, and I could not help myself and 
married, but my thoughts have always been about you, 
dearest, and about our sweet cherub.” So saying he 
took the babe in his arms and kissed it. 

Barbara was taken by surprise, and was dumfounded 
at what he said. Instead of a culprit, he was himself 
a victim and one to be greatly pitied. Did she believe 
him? It is very hard for us to admit that we have 
been deceived and made fools of, and a woman who 
has given away her greatest treasure to a man is 
especially loath to admit that she had been imposed 


144 


Social Sinners 


upon, and will frequently excuse in her heart the 
scoundrel, though the evidence of his bad faith be 
overwhelming to the outside observers, and when the 
man offers a justification, the woman is very prone to 
accept it with very little analysis. Curtis was not more 
skilled in lying than the rest of mankind, but once one 
deceived a woman, one need not be a consummate liar 
to continue deceiving her, as it is so horrible for her 
to be disenchanted that she recoils before the truth, 
and lends herself to the deception. 

^‘And I wrote to you many times and received no 
answer,” said she. 

My dear, I never received a word from you. Some 
cruel enemy must have intervened between us.” 

After a few minutes' conversation they came to an 
understanding. He begged her for the sake of their 
child not to create any scandal now. He loved her 
and the child. Let her wait till after the election, 
when he will return to her and marry her as soon as 
he could get rid of his encumbrance. 

What will not a woman do when her dear babe is in 
question? It was fatherless with an indelible stain on 
its birth, and here the man pledged himself to restore 
within the pale of respectable society both mother and 
child, and as a drowning person catches at a straw so 
does a woman in such a predicament catch at anything 
that affords a faint hope of relief from her wretched- 
ness. 

Barbara soon emerged, apparently appeased and 
satisfied. When she came to see Curtis she had no 
definite purpose in view. She wanted to see him, and 


A Candidate 


MS 

act according to circumstances. As it happened, she 
was temporarily reconciled. When she left, Curtis ex- 
plained that it was a poor relative who insisted on help. 
The same mystical story appeared the following day in 
the papers of his party, to refute the statements made 
by the rival newspapers, and the former expatiated 
on the charitable propensities of the candidate, ending 
with a discourse on charity in general, and that of the 
candidate in particular. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


DEFEATED 

In about a week later the elections were over. There 
were festivities and cheers in the camp of the victors, 
and disappointments, broken hearts and gloom in the 
other camp. Curtis was in the latter. His adversary, 
the philanthropist, won the day, in spite of Curtis’s 
most heroic efforts. 

Our defeated hero had now lots of time to himself, 
and he could at leisure think over matters, as the con- 
quered one is generously left alone, undisturbed. He 
illy brooked his defeat, having been accustomed to come 
out victorious in competitions with his fellow-men. He 
was taciturn, sullen and frequently very brusque in his 
answers. Having never possessed refined and polished 
manners, his address was not improved by his fiasco. 
This was so at home more than outside, and his better 
half felt it keenly. He had never had any great affec- 
tion for her and now her silly prattle so annoyed him 
that he was almost brutal to her. That worthy lady was 
in her turn bitterly disappointed at her lord’s failure to 
get a seat in the capital, as she had intended to keep 
house there in the event of his election, — which, by the 
way, she considered a sure thing, — and had proposed to 
146 


Defeated 


147 

play a prominent role in the society of the capital, and 
now her plans were rudely shattered. 

Of course,” she said to him one evening when he 
showed some impatience to her, “ how could you expect 
to be elected? You are a man without manners, and 
very rude. Look at the other man, the successful rival, 
how nice and gentle he is, and how all speak well of 
him.” 

He is not cursed with such a fool of a wife as mine,” 
retorted he, like a wounded bull that is goaded on. 

Whereupon that lady burst into hysterical tears and 
addressed a few uncomplimentary epithets to her lord 
and master, which provoked the latter to such an extent 
that he was about to strike his tender half, but re- 
strained himself and burst forth from the room. 

He walked a long while in the streets, smarting under 
his wife’s cruel stings, which added fuel to the fire that 
had already been consuming him because of his defeat 
and humiliation. It is precisely under such circum- 
stances that a wise and sympathetic woman becomes a 
ministering angel by her sweetness and gentle tact, re- 
storing the courage and the spirits of her crest-fallen 
sterner half. 

Curtis was not given to great sentimentality, and had 
not expected, nor in fact greatly desired, too affection- 
ate effusions on the part of his spouse; but under the 
circumstances he felt vaguely that something was lack- 
ing in her, and her heartless remarks calculated just 
to sting him to the quick at a time when he needed sym- 
pathy, filled him with rage and completely demoralized 
him. He belonged to that class of people who are full 


Social Sinners 


148 

of brute force and courage, but lack the moral' element 
to sustain them when they meet with reverses. They 
are highly egoistic, pursuing inflexibly their selfish 
aims, and are unscrupulous enough to remove anything 
and anybody in their way, but when their plans are 
thwarted they become utterly demoralized and discour- 
aged, and are even apt to shed tears like babies, as is 
frequently instanced in the case of some prize-fighters, 
who, after having humbled many opponents and gloated 
over their downfall, when their own turn comes to bite 
the dust, break down completely and cry like weak 
women and children. Under these conditions such peo- 
ple seek forgetfulness — some in self-destruction and 
others in intoxication. 

Curtis was too young and full of life, and his bitter 
cup not so full yet as to resort to the former alternative. 
He was too proud to have recourse to the oblivion to be 
found in cups, as the mere idea of lying helpless in a 
gutter was extremely repulsive to him. But his suffer- 
ing was intense, and he needed some sort of an intox- 
icant to deaden his sensibilities, and Barbara came to 
his mind. He had passed with her moments during 
which he had been oblivious to the whole world, and he 
would try the same thing again. Besides, he had prom- 
ised to see her, and had to call on her anyhow, for other- 
wise she might seek him out again. 

It was already past nine in the evening when he 
rapped at her door in a flat house, on the West Side. 

She had not expected any caller, and was about to 
retire. She was scantily attired. She slightly opened 
the door, protruding only the upper part of the face and 


Defeated 


149 

hiding the rest behind the door, and asked who it 
was. 

It is me, Curtis. Please let me in, I want to speak 
to you,” and before she had time to answer, he squeezed 
himself in. 

“ How dare you come to me at such an hour ! ” ex- 
claimed she half angrily, covering her fine bosom with 
her hands. 

The room was only partly lit, and as she stood before 
him, her white form vaguely delineated against the 
semi-dark background, thus hiding any blemishes which 
might appear in glaring light, she seemed to him pret- 
tier than ever. 

Indeed she had not changed for the worse. Her suf- 
fering imparted a melancholy air to her countenance 
and a deep, pensive look to her eyes, which lent charm 
to her former beauty of a simple working girl. 

“ Barbara,” said he, “ let us not stand on ceremony. 
I came to you because I love you, and I need you, and 
I will not abandon you again.” 

He said this passionately and impulsively and was 
earnest at that moment. 

You lost at the election,” remarked she, having read 
of it in the papers. 

“ Yes, I lost, and my wife is cold and apathetic and 
can only irritate me. Oh, why was I not allowed by my 
folks to marry you. I would be the happiest man in the 
world.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


REUNIONS 

When Curtis returned home late after midnight, 
his better half had already retired. On the next day 
he noticed that she was busying herself packing up some 
of her belongings. 

He did not cherish the thought of a total rupture with 
her at that juncture, for he was left greatly dependent 
on her fortune, which Papa Silverton, in a businesslike 
manner, took good care to secure in her name, for just 
such emergencies. He was forced again to curb his 
pride and make overtures to her also. 

She at first ignored him altogether, but he pleaded, 
excused himself on the ground of having been deeply 
wounded by her remarks, said the whole world had 
turned against him, and that her words so incensed him 
that he lost his reason and was not responsible for his 
actions. She at last relented towards him and they 
spent most of the day together, trying hopelessly to ren- 
der sprightly and interesting the dull and lagging col- 
loquy. 

In the evening he visited for a while his club and re- 
turned home early, not having gone to Barbara, as he 
wished to spend the time with his irritable spouse, to 
complete the reconciliation. But unfortunately a friend 
ISO 


Reunions 


151 

happened to drop in and the subject of the past election 
was broached again. 

“ In order to be elected one needs to get in with the 
boys of one’s district,” remarked the friend, a practical 
fellow. ‘'Of course, one can shake them off as soon 
as he has attained his aim, but at first you can not do 
without it.” 

“ That’s what I have told Fred right along,” re- 
marked his wise better half, “ but instead of minding 
me he dislikes to hear of such things.” 

This nearly precipitated another row between the 
pair, as he could hardly withstand such an unjust thrust 
at his sociability. As if he had not done everything in 
his power to gain over the boys on his side ! As if he 
had been a recluse, he who had been so popular at col- 
lege ! 

“ It is nonsensical talk,” retorted he angrily. “ I lost 
because our party lost, and because I have not been long 
enough in the district for the boys to know me. Just 
wait another year or two and you’ll see.” 

During the remainder of the evening he was sullen 
and she peevish, and they retired early. Next day he 
returned home late, and after supper went to his club 
and thence to Barbara, returning home late in the night, 
and explaining to his spouse, who was lying awake 
awaiting him, that he was busy with his practice and 
politics. Subsequently, Curtis divided the time between 
his mistress and his clubs, coming home late and offer- 
ing as an excuse his multifarious affairs, legal and po- 
litical. In this way he spent several weeks. Near 
Christmas his hopes revived ; he was slated by his party 


152 


Social Sinners 


for a position as an Assistant District Attorney, a thing 
quite in his line, and which he thought of using as a 
stepping-stone for something better. 

On New Year’s Day his appointment was formally 
announced, and he soon entered on his duties and be- 
came at once a busy man. What with his official duties, 
his private practice, which greatly increased with his 
appointment to the public position, and the many clubs, 
political and social, which he joined to become pop- 
ular,” he had really very little time to spare. 

By this time May Clayton arrived home, and Mrs. 
Curtis was as overjoyed to meet her again as she was 
in Paris. May proved a boon to that worthy lady, as she 
could pour into the ears of her young friend all her 
conjugal woes, though a more tactful woman might 
have hesitated to speak of such things to a young lady 
enjoying single blessedness; but besides that she con- 
sidered May a very superior person, before whom one 
could unburden the heart, she also wished at the same 
time to impart to her young friend her matrimonial ex- 
perience as a warning against imprudent marriages. 

“ Listen to my advice. May, don’t marry at all, or if 
you do marry don’t get a sport.” 

Which piece of good advice May would accept with 
one of her characteristic winning smiles, without say- 
ing anything. 

“ So the little poet fell in love with you, as I had 
predicted ? ” said Mrs. Curtis, when she had been told 
by her friend of the result of the flirtation at Paris: 
“ well, well, I do not wonder, but I think he is a nice 


Reunions 


153 

fellow. At least I think he would be true to his wife 
and not stay away the whole night.’' 

There are more fish to be caught in the sea,” replied 
the other. 

The two friends thus spent a good deal of time to- 
gether and this caused Mrs. Curtis very often to forget 
the absence of her lord. 

Curtis’s visits to Barbara also became shorter and less 
frequent the busier he got. 

His passion towards her having been simply of the 
sensual kind, devoid of ennobling moral and intellectual 
elements; he was intoxicated while it lasted, but very 
soon a reaction set in, which caused a sense of depres- 
sion, and sometimes of disgust, to creep over him, mak- 
ing him still more wretched, as is the case after a de- 
bauch, when one has abused the natural requirements 
of the grosser senses by indulging in excesses. 

His appointment came to him just in time to save 
him from complete bestiality. His excessive animal 
spirit found an outlet in the mental and physical ex- 
ertion in connection with his new duties and affairs. He 
offered pressure of business as an excuse to Barbara as 
well as to his spouse. 


CHAPTER XXIX 

CURTISES NEW LOVE 

Curtis had frequent occasions to meet Judge Clay- 
ton, both in connection with his official duties and in 
clubs, and the two took a liking to each other, and be- 
came chummy despite the disparity in their ages. 

They both had some traits in common. The old 
Judge was a connoisseur of wine, women and horse- 
racing as well as prize-fighting, and Curtis, though still 
young, yet entered such a fine, practical school that with 
his training and abilities he was learning very fast, and 
gaining rapidly on his elders and superiors in vice and 
blackguardism. In school and college he was trained by 
great teachers in the principles of moral corruption — to 
compete with and outdo his weaker fellows, to cheat 
his fellow men in legal cases, to take every possible ad- 
vantage of his adversary, even if he happens to be a 
friend, etc., and all he had to do now was to apply these 
fine principles to practical life, and he did it with great 
credit to himself and his teachers. He would very often 
call at Clayton’s house, on business or socially, and for 
the sake of formality would occasionally call with Mrs. 
Curtis of an evening when May gave a reception. Some- 
times he would call and find the Judge out, when he 
154 


Curtis’s New Love 


155 


would idle away the time in talking with May, when 
she was home, while waiting for her father’s arrival. 

In six months after he had entered public life, Curtis 
changed marvelously. His coming in contact with life 
in various phases broadened his knowledge of man- 
kind and the world, his conversational powers in- 
creased, and he acquired the superficial polish and gloss 
of the man of the world. 

Before he began visiting Clayton’s house May had 
not exchanged with him more than a few words, either 
because she seldom had met him alone, or because she 
had found no interest in talking to her friend’s husband, 
or for any other reason, she could not have told her- 
self. Now she found him quite interesting. On the 
other hand, he could not have explained, either, why 
he had spoken to her so little before. Now he found 
her brisk talk and spicy repartee quite charming and to 
his taste, used as he was to such things in his wrangles 
with his legal brethren, and coming from the bewitching 
mouth of a beautiful maiden it was doubly charming. 
When summer came the Claytons and the Curtises had 
their country residences not far from each other, and 
very often would Curtis be seen on the verandah talking 
with May. 

Mrs. Curtis, who was neglected by her lord as before, 
could not view his assiduity near her friend without a 
tinge of jealousy. She also noted, or thought so at least, 
that May was spending with her less time than before, 
and the more she thought of the matter, the more did 
she become a prey to the demon of suspicion and jeal- 
ousy. 


Social Sinners 


156 

She became cold and reserved towards her friend, a 
change Which May noticed and wondered at. 

When they came back to New York, the relations of 
the two became still more strained. May finally de- 
cided to ask for an explanation, as she could not account 
for her friend’s demeanor, not being aware of having 
done anything to offend her. 

“ I notice there is a change in you, Clara, towards 
me. I would like to know if I have done anything to 
offend you,” said she one day to her friend, when they 
happened to be alone. 

“ Oh, there is nothing the matter,” answered the 
other, coldly. 

“ But this cannot be. I know you are not the same 
to me as you used to be, and if I have offended you I 
would like to know it.” 

“ No, you did not offend me, only I don’t believe any 
more in friendship. I think the whole world is false,” 
answered Clara with a far away, melancholy look in her 
light gray eyes. 

“ May I ask you how I have proven myself false to 
you ? ” the young woman asked somewhat angrily. 

“ In nothing,” replied the other gloomily. 

'' I see you are suffering terribly, Clara ; don’t hide 
it from your best friend.” 

“ Who tries to alienate the affection of her best 
friend’s husband,” popped out Clara sarcastically, hav- 
ing read the expression recently in a newspaper, and 
having retained it well in mind. 

May turned deadly pale. 

‘‘ What? ” gasped she. Do you mean to say that? ” 


Curtis’s New Love 


157 


Oh, forgive me ! ” cried out Mrs. Curtis hysteric- 
ally. “ Forgive me, I don’t know what I am talking. 
I am suffering so much that I am afraid I’ll lose my 
reason,” and thereupon she burst out in tears. 

May forgot the terrible insult at the sight of her 
friend’s intense suffering, and embracing her tenderly, 
they sat long together, Clara pouring into her friend’s 
ears her anguish at the way she was treated by her hus- 
band, the more so that she was soon to become a mother. 

When Curtis called next time on the Claytons, May 
responded to his greetings and, after the exchange of a 
few civilities, excused herself on the ground of having 
something pressing to do, and withdrew to her apart- 
ment. 

She did the same several times in succession. One 
evening, after that, he and Mrs. Curtis called together, 
but May somehow or other found much to do and had 
little time to devote to listening to his stories. 

He was convinced at last that she was avoiding him, 
and one day, when on calling and finding her alone she 
excused herself and was about to withdraw, he said: 

I notice with great regret that of late you are studi- 
ously trying to avoid me. May I ask you whether I 
have been guilty of any ungentlemanly conduct ? ” 

“ Oh, not at all, Mr. Curtis. I am simply too busy, 
and cannot afford to waste time in talking.” 

You cannot deceive a lawyer in this way. Miss 
Clayton. I know there is something the matter. You 
must tell me what it is.” 

I must ? There is no must about it. I won’t and 
that’s all,” said she, defiantly. 


Social Sinners 


158 

Then I'll tell you what it is,” he said with his usual 
audacity, with which he succeeded so well in many in- 
stances ; '' it is because you are afraid of me and of your- 
self, and you wish to stop while there is yet time.” 

He knew not what the real cause was, but he sur- 
mised that she would resent such an imputation and 
would involuntarily reveal the true cause of her changed 
attitude towards him, and he hit the mark. 

You are conceited beyond limit, sir,” flashed she in 
return. You have a wife upon whom to bestow your 
attention, and you’ll soon be a father, too, and for the 
sake of this poor wife and mother whose heart you are 
breaking I don’t care to speak any more to her scape- 
grace of a husband.” 

I beg your pardon. Miss Clayton, for having made 
such a remark. It was only a lawyer’s ruse to gain the 
point, and now I have it. So it is for the sake of my 
wife and future child that you avoid me, and she must 
have asked you to do that. Is it your opinion that a 
man must be attached to the apron-strings of his wife 
and be prohibited from speaking a few friendly words 
with another woman ? ” 

I have not made up an opinion on this subject,” 
replied May, '‘but I don’t want to cause any pain to 
my best friend. ” 

Whether May wished to do a good turn to her friend 
in saying what she did, or did it simply to clear herself 
from Curtis’s imputation that she was afraid of him, or 
whether perhaps she was smarting under her friend’s 
accusation of trying to alienate her husband’s affec- 
tions, and said what she did from motives not entirely 


Curtis’s New Love 


159 


above reproach, we are not in a position to judge with 
certainty, not claiming the ability to penetrate into the 
deepest recesses of the human mind, or as another 
novelist would say, the heart, that organ having the 
reputation in novels of a great mischief maker and to 
possess properties said by the physiologists to belong 
properly to the brain. 

In fact, May herself might perhaps have been un- 
able to define accurately her own feelings. But 
certain it is, that the conversation took a very 
dangerous turn, for once a couple who had found 
pleasure in each other’s company touch on such a deli- 
cate subject, the ice is broken, and the way is prepared 
to bring about the very state which it was desired to 
avoid. This gave Curtis a good opening to make some 
explanations on his part, of which he availed him- 
self, like a good lawyer that he was. 

Miss Clayton, I consider you a friend, and I 
would be very sorry to lose your friendship. You 
heard one side, and I think it but just to give a hear- 
ing to the other side. I am made wretched by my 
wife’s petty jealousies and constant nagging; as in 
our case, for instance, she takes ill a harmless friend- 
ship, and shall we turn our backs on each other 
simply on account of a capricious whim of a jealous 
woman? I am the most unfortunate person in the 
world — my wife and I simply can not get along to- 
gether. Our characters are incompatible. ” 

“ Why did you marry then ? ” queried May. 

“ Why did I? The answer is just as simple as the 
question, ' Because I did. ’ Why are we doing silly 


i6o 


Social Sinners 


things right along? Why do people commit crimes 
for which they pay with their lives? Because we do, 
and that’s all we know about it. Sometimes we think 
we are doing the right thing, when it is 
really wrong, and sometimes we do it irre- 
spective of right or wrong and of the consequences. 
I can not tell you precisely what I thought when I 
married her. All I know is that I did it, and am 
wretched. ” 

Had you not known each other long before you 
married ? ” 

'' Yes, we did, but as you see it does no good. I 
am sure I could get along with a smart person. I 
am sure one would have no trouble to get along well 
with such a woman as you. I am experienced now, 
and know what kind of a woman a man can get along 
with. ” 

Really the more I think of it, and the more I know 
her, I see that she is indeed not very bright, poor 
Clara,” her dearest friend thought to herself. And 
aloud she said : Oh, never fear for that. No man 
will have trouble to get along with me, because no man 
will have me. ” 

“ Say not that. Miss Clayton. I know men who 
would only be too happy, and one man who would die 
for you. ” 

Miss Clayton did not take the trouble to inquire who 
it was who was ready to die for her. Perhaps she un- 
derstood to whom Curtis alluded. 

“ All the men I rejected told me they were ready 
to die for me, but I know men say so till they get 


Curtis’s New Love i6i 

us, and then they say they are ready to die because they 
got us. One man, however, a little French poet, never 
told me he would die for me, and I believe he was more 
in earnest than the rest of them. ’’ 

May I ask you, then, why the little Frenchman 
failed in his suit ? ” 

“ Because good will and good faith alone are not 
enough to live on. ’’ 

“ That’s right. I believe in giving to the woman 
you love all the luxuries money can buy. Otherwise 
a man has no right to marry. ” 

Judge Clayton just then returned home, and the 
conversation between the pair came to an end. 


CHAPTER XXX 
Eugene's departure 

It is said that one stroke of good fortune brings 
another one and the same with misfortune. The 
latter happened to Eugene de St. Denis who, as the 
reader must know, was alluded to by May and Curtis 
as the little Frenchman in their conversation reported 
in the last chapter. 

It very often occurs that the person spoken of sud- 
denly and unexpectedly appears before the speakers, 
to their great surprise, and so it occurred in this case 
that Eugene, owing to circumstances to be told im- 
mediately, soon came to America and made his appear- 
ance before those who had referred to him. 

It is superfluous to describe Eugene’s condition 
after he had received May’s refusal. 

He was of the opinion that one has no moral right 
to put an end to his life, that it would denote great 
egoism and shallow-mindedness wantonly to destroy 
this wonderful mechanism, the human organism, be- 
cause of a selfish disappointment in love, as if the 
cadres of life were so narrow that there was nothing 
else left to live for. No one has fathomed yet the 
mysteries of life, no one can, and no one will, and 
Eugene thought that one has no more right to crush 
162 


Eugene’s Departure 163 

violently one’s existence than that of a fellow-being. 
All he could do therefore was to bear in silence his 
suffering. But as bad luck wished it, another dis- 
aster soon occurred, to fill his bitter cup of misfortune 
to overflowing. 

A financial crisis swept over France, one of those 
cyclones which now and then rush over a country, 
taking its victims by surprise, unawares, engulfing the 
little fortunes of the small investors, and leaving deso- 
lation, famine and death in its wake. Eugene’s little 
fortune was swept away among many others, and 
penury was added to his mental pangs, which made 
his misery complete. To continue his literary work 
under such conditions was, of course, out of the 
question. His health began to fail, and it was im- 
possible for him to stay indoors, as his suffering was 
thereby increased. It was deemed advisable for him 
to seek a physical occupation, both to forget in 
hard work his sorrows and to strengthen his body, by 
earning a livelihood for himself and mother, and 
after some consideration he resolved to come and try 
his luck in the United States, the country of op- 
portunities, where so many ruined and miserable 
people retrieve their fortunes. 

He consulted with Mr. Remington, who could give 
him vaulable advice on this matter. The Reming- 
tons, by the way, were aware of their young friend’s 
unfortunate love, but forbore alluding to it from feel- 
ings of delicacy. 

‘'Yes, the United States is really a country of 
opportunities for some,” Mr. Remington said, “but 


Social Sinners 


164 

in order to succeed you must know how to proceed. 
If you are practical, with a strong will, aided by a 
strong fist, you can push your way through. 

“If you have some shrewdness and are a hustler, 
knowing how to advertise yourself and to take ad- 
vantage of the blunders of your competitors you 
can succeed in business very well. You will meet 
there with many people who had come penniless and 
in a few years made colossal fortunes. If you have 
the knack to make friends with all kinds of people, 
to shake their hands, and to be prodigal in your 
promises, which you need not necessarily keep, you 
can make a success in politics. 

“ If you choose for yourself a profession and are 
able to make yourself known in a sleek way so as 
not to transgress professional ethics, and yet have 
your name constantly before the public, in print or 
otherwise, you can succeed in that line. You will also 
find a great many exceptions. But you can learn 
more for yourself on the spot. 

“ I left the United States so long ago that things 
may have changed a good deal for tlie better or the 
worse, for the Americans are quick to learn, and in 
a decade will accomplish what will take Europe a 
whole century. ” 

“ I will try to do everything consistent with in- 
tegrity, ” said our young friend, ” and if I fail I will 
at least have the satisfaction of knowing that I 
followed the bent of my conscience. ” 

Very soon he took leave of his kin and friends and 
set out for the New World. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE COLD SHOULDER 

With the introduction of steam and electricity the 
journey from Paris to New York is an ordinary 
matter, and is devoid of the stirring events which 
occurred in the olden times when to traverse the At- 
lantic was quite a heroic feat. The casualties on the 
ocean now-a-days are not greater, if they are not 
less, than on the railroads. 

Eugene arrived safely in New York and put up 
in a hotel befitting his means. He brought letters 
from Mr. Remington to Justice Clayton, recommend- 
ing the young man highly, and requesting his Honor 
to do for him all he could. Eugene hesitated at first 
about delivering the letters to the Judge, as the idea 
of coming to May’s house for a favor was odious to 
him. But at last he decided to call, if only to ful- 
fil his duty in delivering the messages sent by his 
best friends, and incidentally also to show his cruel 
deceiver that he bore her no malice, and one after- 
noon he bent his steps towards the Claytons’ residence, 
which he found without difficulty. 

He rang the bell, and after awhile a maid opened 
the door and asked what he wanted. 

He thought it best to present himself first to May, 
and, accordingly, asked if that lady could be seen. 

165 


Social Sinners 


i66 

The servant surveyed him from head to foot, noted 
that he had not come in a carriage, as there was none 
near, hesitated awhile, and then said, “ Your name, 
please ? 

Eugene handed her his card, which she examined 
without apparently being able to gain any informa- 
tion from it, but she invited him to wait a while in 
the vestibule, and disappeared. Soon she reappeared 
again, requested him to follow her, and led the way to 
what Eugene called a salon, or drawing room, and bid- 
ding him to wait a while, as the lady would soon see 
him, she retired. 

May took her time in coming down. She was dis- 
agreeably surprised when the maid handed her 
Eugene’s card. She had not seen him or heard of 
him for about ten months, since she left Paris. Her 
father who knew nothing of the matter, was at home 
then, and Curtis, who came in to discuss some affairs 
was also there, and she feared a scene which the 
ardent and impudent French lover might create. 
Nothing daunted, however, she decided to admit him, 
but took her time in preparing and studying herself. 

The time seemed very long to the waiting Eugene, 
and, he employed it in examining the room. He 
noted a few small oil-paintings by painters unknown 
to him, a few family portraits, one of a man who in 
features resembled May, and he guessed it was her 
father. He noted the strong and stem cast of counte- 
nance, and lost all hope of obtaining any favors from 
that m^n. A few statuettes completed the collection 
of works of art. But the furniture was costly and 


The Cold Shoulder 


167 

sumptuous. Rich carpets and Persian rugs every- 
where — in the hall, in all the rooms that he could 
see, and in the drawing room itself, and he was 
wondering at the violation of all the rules of hygiene 
as well as at the bad taste. A parqueted floor, he 
thought, was much healthier and nicer. 

After he had observed the house, his thoughts re- 
verted to the inmates. He waited for May without 
any great trepidation or excitement. He loved her 
still, though he was satisfied that she was unworthy 
of his love; but he also knew that it was a hopeless 
case for him, especially in his present circumstances, 
and he was resigned to his fate, and awaited her 
coming coolly, like a criminal condemned to die, be- 
yond any hope of a respite, who becomes reconciled 
to his fate, and awaits calmly the appearance of his 
executioners. 

Finally a rustle of silk, a quick step which he well 
knew, warned him of her approach, and before he 
had time to rise she was in the room. She was 
dressed in a dark silk gown, and was physically as 
charming as ever, the dark dress setting oif her fine, 
rosy complexion and beautiful auburn hair to great 
advantage. She stood before him at a little dis- 
tance, gazed at him for a while with a half-smiling, 
half-quizzical look, and, forgetting to shake hands 
with him, said: 

How do you, M. de St. Denis ? You are quite 
an unexpected visitor here. ” 

“ And I am afraid not very welcome either, said 
he rather sarcastically. 


i68 


Social Sinners 


''Oh no, don’t say that,” answered she hypocritic- 
ally, " I owe you so much for your kindness to me in 
Paris that I am glad of the opportunity to be able 
to express to you my thanks. ” 

Then she inquired of him about the Remingtons and 
a few more mutual acquaintances in Paris. 

" May I ask you whether you will make a long stay 
with us ? ” asked she. 

" I came with the intention of making your country 
my permanent home, if possible. ” 

May received this piece of information with a wry 
face. 

" Oh, I thought you were so much in love with 
your gay capital that you would not part with it. But, 
I hope you will find America just as good, if not 
better, than your country,” she said with a patronizing 
air. 

" I hope so, ” answered he. " I wish to make my 
way here, and I brought some letters to your father. 
He can probably do something for me. ” 

May’s face became longer still. She did not relish 
the idea of his asking favors from her father. She 
was sorry that she had had anything to do with a 
man who came now as a pauper. 

" My father is at home now, and I can take you to 
him, ” said she, and with this she bade him follow 
her, and took him up-stairs to her father’s room. 

The old Judge was sitting luxuriously, with his 
head leaned backward, in an arm chair, in front of a 
little desk at the side of which sat Curtis; they were 


The Cold Shoulder 169 

both smoking cigars and were interrupted in a con- 
versation. 

When Eugene looked at his Honor he was not 
greatly encouraged. He saw before him a strong, 
determined face, — the one on the portrait, but the live 
one was much plder and had large semi-circles of 
adipose tissue under the eye-lids. At the entrance 
of the visitors, the Judge slightly turned his head. 

“ My father — M. de St. Denis,” said she. “ And 
this is Mr. Curtis — Oh, I am sure you know him, ” 
added she. 

The Justice glanced at Eugene with the indifference 
with which he was wont to do at the petty felons 
brought before his bar. His Honor knew the names 
of the influential and powerful. The young man’s 
name, which he did not even catch well, was not 
familiar to him, and, consequently, the person intro- 
duced could not be of any consequence. 

“ What does the gentleman want ? ” he asked of his 
daughter, who was standing at some distance, lean- 
ing against a chair. 

Father, the gentleman comes from Paris, and 
brings letters to you from the Remingtons. ” 

On hearing this, the Judge became more affable, 
as he thought it might perhaps be some rich noble- 
man’s son visiting the United States. 

‘‘ Sit down, please — what is your name ? I beg 
pardon.” — “ Eugene de St. Denis, father,” helped 

him his daughter. 

Oh, yes, M. de St. Denis (with the accent on the 


170 


Social Sinners 


first syllable) ; sit down, please. Do you propose to 
honor us with a long visit ? 

“ I intend to remain here permanently, if it is 
possible. ” 

“ Oh, yes, you will find this a very good country 
to live in. ” 

Then he asked for news from the Remingtons, and 
Eugene handed him the letters. 

“ That man Remington lost his best opportunities by 
his foolish desire to live abroad,” he remarked to his 
audience as he took the letters. 

Eugene watched him read and noticed that the 
Justice made a wry face when he reached some parts. 
Curtis meanwhile fixed on Eugene his insolent and 
impudent gaze, and hardly exchanged with him a 
few words. He could not forgive the Frenchman for 
his presumption in falling in love with May, and as 
the foreigner could do nothing for him, not even 
cast a vote at the approaching election, he had no use 
for him, and left him severely alone. 

When the Judge had finished reading, he thus ad- 
dressed Eugene : “ Young man, I am exceedingly 
sorry for your misfortune, but as you are not a 
citizen of the United States, I don’t see what I can 
do for you. As I understand from the letter you 
write poetry. I am sorry to say that this will not 
enable you to earn a livelihood, and you will have to 
look for work. This is a democratic country, and 
none ought to be ashamed to work. Some of our 
Presidents performed manual labor when young. If 
you may need any reference, call on me, and you will 


The Cold Shoulder 171 

get that, ” and having intimated with a slight shake 
of the head that the interview was at an end, he took 
up the interrupted conversation with Curtis, ignoring 
the stranger entirely. 

May, who was present all the time, then said to 
Eugene : “ I thank you very much for your visit, and 
for the news you brought us from my kind uncle and 
aunt in Paris. I am really sorry that it is getting late, 
and my presence is needed down-stairs. I hope you 
will excuse me, won’t you ? ” and with this she bowed 
herself out. 

Eugene left the house with a curse on his lips, the 
first in his young but blighted life. 


CHAPTER XXXII 

DEATH OF MRS. CURTIS 

Over a year passed since Eugene’s visit to the 
Claytons, and many important events transpired in 
the life of the Curtises, which also affected May 
Clayton. 

Mrs. Curtis’s hopes or fears of becoming a mother 
had not been realized on account of an accident that 
had caused premature birth and left her in very ill 
health as a consequence. She was naturally more 
peevish than before and Curtis took greater care to 
stay at home as little as possible. 

During that year he had made himself conspicuous 
in his district and party, became a prominent man 
politically, and when the elections came, he was put 
up for the office of District-Attorney. 

Of course, it goes without saying that a handsome 
contribution had been made to his party, for one must 
pay liberally for being nominated for an office. Dur- 
ing the campaign he worked as hard as he had two 
years previously for his congressional seat, but this 
time he was no longer a novice, but an experienced 
hand. He had formed a club, which bore his name, 
and he marched at the head of his club in the streets, 
172 


Death of Mrs. Curtis 


173 


with a lavish display of banners, fireworks, amid the 
beating of drums, the shouting of sympathizers, and 
all the noise and blutf calculated to impress the pros- 
pective voters to make them cast their votes for him. 

After the elections Curtis found himself this time 
the victor, and his unbounded joy and happiness, 
which found vent in feasting, with a copious flow of 
champagne and beer, defies all description. 

Shortly after the elections, poor Clara, who had 
been ailing for a long while, rendered her soul to 
Heaven. 

Her tender spouse, who thus so soon had been freed 
from his peevish, capricious helpmeet, mourned for 
her, as it behooves a devoted husband to do — for a 
while — and after having received the condolences and 
sympathies of friends and foes, he soon got over his 
terrible bereavement and entered life again under the 
brightest auspices. Indeed he seemed to be under 
the influence of his lucky star. 

There remained, however, one thing to mar his hap- 
piness — and that was Barbara. This woman was to his 
mind what a cancer is to the body. He was afraid 
to rid himself of her lest the operation might prove 
too dangerous to his welfare, and, on the other hand, 
he felt that a crisis was imminent. After his defeat 
two years previously, he had spent much time with 
her, and she became the mother of a second child, but 
as his love was not of the noble kind, he soon 
reached the point of satiety, and when he became an 
important personage and his company was sought for 
by high and by low, he became heartily tired of the 


1 74 Social Sinners 

woman, who was hanging like a millstone on his 
neck. 

While he had an eye on the District-Attorneyship, 
no sooner would the thought of breaking Off with Bar- 
bara come to his mind than he would discard it as 
detrimental to his beloved plans. He knew that she 
was not a woman who would meekly submit to be 
thrown overboard. The affair would most assuredly 
cause a scandal, as it was sufficient that only one 
reporter should get an inkling of it, and it would be 
bruited all over, which would seriously endanger his 
future political career. 

Curtis, therefore, had considered it best to bide his 
time. But now, when he was elected to the coveted 
office, he began seriously to devise ways and means 
to rid himself of his burden, the more so that his 
attachment to May Clayton had ripened into love. 
That young lady had not met her ideal outside of 
Curtis, and for all intents and purposes he was as 
good a match as any. 

May was precisely the woman that could attach to 
herself a man like Curtis. In reality he had never 
loved before, because for Barbara he had only felt a 
temporary desire, and for his defunct wife he had 
never had any great affection. He cared for May be- 
cause she was beautiful, spirited, and with a will of her 
own, and had not committed the fatal mistake of 
showing herself too eager to receive his attention, and 
as in Barbara’s case, he found great satisfaction in 
conquering such a woman as May, with the difference 
that he had never entertained any honorable intentions 


Death of Mrs. Curtis 175 

with regard to the former, whereas with regard to May 
he thought she would be a partner worthy to share 
his life in matrimonial bliss. 

His previous marital failure did not discourage him, 
because he thought that he and Clara had been ill- 
mated, which would not be the case with the bright 
and accomplished May. 

As to that young lady, as nothing very great had 
turned up all these years, and as she had no great in- 
clination to become an old maid, seeing that nearly 
all of her friends had already married, she placed her 
ideal of her future husband a few degrees lower, and 
considered the young District-Attorney, full of bright 
future promises, as good a man as any of those who 
married some of her friends. After the death of Mrs. 
Curtis it was an open secret among the friends of May 
and the widower that the engagement between the pair 
would be announced ere long. 

In this connection we might as well report the 
rumor that had been afloat to the effect that Mrs. 
Curtis, on her death-bed, requested particularly that 
she might have a few minutes private conversation 
with her dearest friend May, and when the latter left 
the room of the moribund, she was seen to be ex- 
tremely agitated, and shuddering all over her body, 
and subsequently she avoided Curtis for a long while. 
The nurse who overheard fragments of the conversa- 
tion, it is said, told some of her friends, under the 
seal of secrecy, the following story : “ May,” said 
Clara in a feeble, hoarse voice, “ I know my end is 
near, and I die from a broken heart, and may the 


176 Social Sinners 

Almighty forgive you for coming between me and 

him . . . . ” 

Whereupon May burst into hysterical tears and 
clasping her friend’s clammy cold hands, exclaimed: 
“Don’t, Clara! for God’s sake, don’t speak so! You 
will soon have to stand judgment before Him, and 
don’t sin by calumniating an innocent person who 
never did any harm to you. ” 

“ May, I don’t accuse you. God knows I want to 
part forgiving all. Besides, you are not to blame; if 
not you somebody else .... but that is not the 
point. I as a friend wish to warn you .... I 
die of a broken heart .... Don’t marry a 
man .... so cruel .... broke my 
hear . . . . ” 

The dying woman’s utterances here became indis- 
tinct, and she soon lapsed into unconsciousness, and 
May, trembling in every limb, pale as death, left the 
death chamber, and on reaching another room, fell in a 
faint on a couch, but was soon brought to herself by the 
nurse. Though May was not superstitious, yet the 
parting words of the dying, for some reason or another, 
make even on the skeptical a more lasting impression 
than the words of the living, and she accordingly 
avoided Curtis for a long while. But rumor further 
had it, that Curtis as an able lawyer proved to May 
that his better half had riot been fully conscious when 
she had last spoken to her, and that the physicians 
in attendance gave the cause of death as being kid- 
ney trouble, not heart disease, and that it would be 
indeed preposterous for a bright and cultured person 


Death of Mrs. Curtis 


177 


to be influenced by the incoherent remarks of a dying 
woman, who at best, even when in good health, was 
weak-minded; and May at last came to look upon the 
matter in the same light. 

And so as we said before fortune smiled on Curtis, 
with the exception of the troublesome Barbara. For 
one reason or another, perhaps she had not read the 
newspapers when it occurred or overlooked it, she had 
not been aware of Mrs. Curtis’s death, and he certain- 
ly did not care to inform her of it; but he knew 
that sooner or later she would learn of it, and demand 
of him to redeem his promise. 

Were it not for May, now that he had been elected to 
the coveted office, he would think of offering to settle 
with Barbara by providing handsomely for herself 
and children, on condition that she should release him 
altogether, and if she should demur to it and create 
a scandal, he might take his chances of a rupture, for, 
in the first place, he might deny her allegations of 
his paternity, and should some incredulous persons 
be inclined to doubt his words, by the next election the 
thing might be wholly forgotten, and meanwhile he 
would do his best to ingratiate himself into popular 
favor. But he was afraid that if this business should 
find its way in the newspapers it might turn May 
against him, and he might lose her, for he knew that as 
long as a man can cover the traces of the wild-oats 
that he had sown, a modern woman cares not very 
much, but when they creep out in the light she can 
not forgive it. May did not mind much his previous 
marriage, for it was according to the rules of society. 


Social Sinners 


178 

and besides he had told her he had not loved his 
spouse, so that all his affection would fall to her 
part; but he knew she would not have him if she 
should learn of another claimant to his affection. 
After turning over the question on all sides he thought 
it best to let matters run their natural course, and to 
meet exigencies as they arise. Meanwhile he might 
marry May without hindrance from Barbara, and then 
he could adopt drastic measures towards the latter, if it 
should be necessary, and once wedded. May, for her 
own sake, thought he, would discredit Barbara’s as- 
sertions. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


MR. THOMAS BUCK 

Let us now for awhile leave Curtis with his laudable 
ambitions and return two years back to throw a retro- 
glance at some persons directly or remotely con- 
nected with our story. 

Karl Schmalzkopf who disappeared from these 
pages after he had saved Barbara from a watery 
grave, had by that time, owing to a fortuitous circum- 
stance, such as now and then occur in our lives, met 
with an acquaintance who wrought a great change 
in his moral and intellectual existence. The name of 
that person was Thomas Buck, who by that time had 
come to board in the same house with Karl, and seeing 
the latter dejected and evidently suffering terribly, 
engaged him in conversation, and the two became fast 
friends in a short time. 

Let us introduce this new and tardy acquaintance 
to the reader. 

Thomas Buck was born of poor parents in one of 
the New England States, on a farm, on which he 
worked, without receiving any schooling worth speak- 
ing of, till the age of fifteen; but he had an innate 
desire for books and an aptitude for study, and seeing 
that the facilities for it on a farm were lacking, he 
179 


i8o 


Social Sinners 


moved to the city, took up the trade of a shoe-maker, 
and while working in the day time, spent his evenings 
with books. 

When Karl first met him in the boarding house, he 
was past middle age, tall and slim, with slightly stoop- 
ing shoulders, had a rather sallow complexion, light 
hair slightly streaked with gray, with eyes of the 
same color, in which there was a far away, pensive 
look when in repose, but which became animated and 
bright when he spoke of something dear to him. 

His countenance expressed benevolence and sym- 
pathy. When he smiled it was not the affected, hypo- 
critical smile of the society man, or the impudent leer 
and grin of the tough, but an honest smile of good 
nature and sympathy. His was a countenance with 
which a belle would not fall in love, but which she 
might like to have near her to solace her broken 
heart when disappointed in the love of a society 
beau. The aim and ambition in life of this simple 
shoe-maker was to do good and to improve the morals 
of his fellow-men, which he tried to do in a modest, 
quiet way. He taught the gospel of unselfishness, 
and he condensed the wisdom of the Old and the New 
Testament, as well as the volumes of altruistic philos- 
ophy into the simple sentence, '' Don’t be selfish. ” 

He wrote a book and several treatises on moral 
philosophy, which the scientists did not care to read, 
because they thought them not scientific enough, as 
the author’s name was without a tail, such as “ pro- 
fessor, ” in such and such a university, or den of 
dunces, as it was called by William Cobbet ; the clergy- 


Mr. Thomas Buck 


i8i 


men thought them not sufficiently religious, because 
they did not mention the name of the Almighty in 
every line; the business men did not find in them any 
recipes for making money; and the extreme social re- 
formers, who wish to reform the world by dynamite 
and bloody revolutions, found them to be too con- 
servative, so that the sales were very poor indeed. 
The author, however, who had written from unselfish 
motives, found satisfaction in the fact that he had 
done his duty and sown the grain of truth. He be- 
lieved in moral as well as in physical evolution. In 
him was reflected August Compte’s positivism with 
the addition of the virtue of a Socrates. He believed 
in preaching precepts by example, and in this he 
differed from most reformers, who do not practise 
what they preach. He knew that perfect honesty 
could be compatible only with manual labor, and he 
therefore chose to earn a livelihood as a workingman. 
As his personal needs were not great, a great part of 
his scanty earnings he spent on his publications, and 
in helping the needy. 

Such, in short, was Karl’s new acquaintance, of 
whom the reader will soon learn more. 

Having noticed Karl’s anguish, he said to him sym- 
pathetically : “ Does anything ail you, my friend ? ” 

Though Karl was not of a very communicative 
nature, yet his suffering was so great that he was 
glad to find somebody before whom to relieve his 
grief. 

'' Notin’ ails me, sir, ” replied he, only oi fin’ de 
wold false an’ am sick an’ tied o’ it.” 


i 82 


Social Sinners 


How so ? ” queried Mr. Buck in surprise. “ It is 
sad, indeed, that a young man like yourself should 
speak so. Could I do anything for you ? ” 

“ Oh, I’m afred, no, nobody can do notin’ exept 
as de purson as did de harm,” and after thinking a 
while he added, musingly, “ an’ she can’t help moch 
now neider. ” 

After a few more questions Karl grew confidential, 
and retiring to his room with Mr. Buck, told his 
story, which we know .already. 

When he finished he laid his head between his hands 
on the table and sobbed. 

Mr. Buck was in his turn so overcome at the sight 
of such anguish that tears welled in his own eyes, and 
for some time he could not find his voice. After a 
while he cleared his throat and said : “ Well, my 

friend, you claim that you are more sorry for her than 
for yourself, because she is ruining, you think, her 
own life. I esteem you highly for your noble and 
generous ideas, that you don’t think of your misery, 
but of hers. At the same time let me tell you that 
you have not acted altogether unselfishly. If you had 
not been persistent in your attentions to her, perhaps she 
would not have left home, or even if she did, she might 
not have fallen a victim to that fellow. And even 
when you last saw her under such terrible circum- 
stances, you could not quench your burning passion 
towards the fallen woman, and instead of extending 
to her a helping brotherly hand, you again alluded to 
yourself. Mind you, I don’t blame you, for you did 
more than many others would do for a woman who 


Mr. Thomas Buck 


183 


they think had maltreated them by rejecting their 
love, but if you think that you are sorry only for her 
sake, you are mistaken, for your behavior shows that 
you were not altogether unselfish. 

Karl was rather irritated to hear himself accused 
when he expected condolence and good advice. 

I did me best,’' said he ruefully. 

“ I don’t say ‘ no ’ ; I don’t reproach you, and 
don’t sermonize you, only for your sake I wish to 
open your eyes, in order to make it easier for you to 
bear it. The poor woman is to be pitied now, and 
if you are really sorry for her sake only, you will 
surely find great satisfaction in extending to her a 
brotherly hand, and in thinking of her in the light of 
a sister only. ” 

Karl, who was not accustomed to grammatical 
speech, only half understood his interlocutor. 

“ What kin I do fur her ? ” lamented he ; she 
don’t want me. ” 

“ Yes, she wants you as a friend, ” retorted the 
other, “ for you told me yourself she was friendly to 
you when you last saw her, only your selfish love got 
the best of you, and you came out with it again in a 
very wrong time. Wait a few years longer, and both 
of you may change your minds, and now let us con- 
sider her as a misguided sister, and let us try to do 
for her what we can. ” 

• Such a piece of philosophy as that expressed by 
Mr. Buck, though it might be just, is nevertheless 
very hard to digest for a man who has been rejected 
by a woman he loves passionately; but Karl was glad 


Social Sinners 


184 

to have somebody to talk to over the matter, as he had 
not spoken of it with any one, and thus found relief in 
words. He was also glad that Mr. Buck offered to 
help Barbara, as, besides the fact that it would give 
him an opportunity to hear of her and perhaps to see 
her, he was glad that something should be done for 
her to avert her total ruin, as he pitied her from the 
bottom of his heart, which was of a tender and sympa- 
thetic nature. 

Accordingly, Mr. Buck wrote to her once and sub- 
sequently called on her, first alone, and then with 
Karl. He tried to do all he could for her, to alleviate 
her suffering and to make her forget her past, but he 
succeeded very little. Barbara liked to hear the kind 
gentleman talk, but as soon as he was gone her per- 
plexity and anguish would return. 

Had there been no trace left of her downfall, she 
might have tried to forget it and to atone for it by 
virtue and goodness. But the offspring of her sin 
continually reminded her of her past and future, and 
made her path dark and forlorn. She could not see 
her way clear with regard to her duty toward that 
unfortunate being. To love it or hate it was equally 
painful to her, as in one way it reminded her of her 
sin, and in the other of her maternal obligations. If 
she were an utterly immoral and depraved woman, she 
would not be troubled by such scruples. But she came 
from an honest, industrious German stock, and her 
downfall was not due to innate depravity of nature, 
but to bad surroundings and a perverted system of 
society, which considers riches and rank as the highest 


Mr. Thomas Buck 


185 

goal in life. Instead of becoming a lady, she found 
herself an outcast, with a bastard on her hands. Life 
under such conditions was not endurable to her, and, 
therefore, when she heard of the whereabouts of 
Curtis, she came to see him, without any definite 
plans, as we said before, and when subsequently he 
resumed with her the former sinful life, she let him 
do it, with the hope of some day entering triumphantly 
into her rights as a lawful spouse, whereby her whole 
past would be redeemed and, so to say, neutralized. 

When she joined Curtis again, the two friends gave 
her up as a hopeless case, and tried to console them- 
selves as well as they could. 

Soon after that Mr. Buck established himself in a 
little shoe-shop of his own. There were two rooms 
there in the back, which he shared with Karl, as the 
latter did not wish to part from his friend and live 
apart. Under the instruction of Mr. Buck, Karl made 
rapid progress in studies, and at the end of two years, 
he could write, read and converse intelligently on many 
topics. 

When I am gone you will continue my work of 
teaching the people the gospel of unselfishness, his 
teacher would say to him often. And Karl was an 
apt pupil. 

One December evening, as Karl w.as returning home 
from his day's work, he beheld a young man half sitting, 
half lying on the sidewalk, and a crowd collecting 
around him. Something struck him in the young man 
as familiar to him, and on closer inspection recognized 
in him a young Frenchman who had worked with him 


i86 


Social Sinners 


a short time in the same factory, but left soon, after 
having had a fight with a rowdy of the shop, in which 
the Frenchman was worsted. They had not worked 
long enough together to become friendly, but Karl 
had noticed the stranger’s subdued air, and evident in- 
ability to perform physical labor and had taken a 
liking to him. The young man as he was sitting on 
the side-walk pointed to his mouth and chest, which 
evidently meant he was hungry. 

Karl stepped up to him, raised him, and took him to 
his quarters, which were not far, the curious crowd 
following. 

They came when Mr. Buck was finishing a pair of 
shoes for a customer. 

'' Hello, Karl, what is up ? ” asked he, pausing in 
his work. 

‘‘ A young man I once met ; wish to keep him till he 
gets better, ” replied Karl laconically, and in good 
English. 

Mr. Buck noticing the stranger’s condition, left his 
work, and came to his assistance. They gave him 
some stimulants, fed him gently, divested him of his 
ragged, dirty clothes, and improvising a bed for him 
in a comer of the room, left him to rest, not wishing 
to pester him with questions while he was in such an 
exhausted condition. 


CHAPTER XXXIV, 

EUGENE'S STORY 

When the Frenchman got up on the following 
morning, he found his hosts dressed and talking in the 
next room. As they perceived him they greeted him. 

“ Have you slept well ? ” Karl asked him. 

Oh, yes, thank you very much, ” replied the 
stranger. “ I needed a rest very much. When I 
woke up a short while ago I was wondering where I 
was, and how I came here, but little by little the re- 
collection came to my mind of what had happened. I 
can hardly express to you my gratitude for your 
kindness. ” 

Oh, I have not done so much. It is only natural 
to do such a little thing. ” 

Karl gave the Frenchman a suit of his clothes, 
which proved two sizes too big for the latter, but he 
put it on for the day, Karl promising to procure for 
him clothes of the proper size for the next day. 

It was Sunday and on holidays the two friends were 
in the habit of preparing their own breakfast, in order 
“ to feel at home " as they would say, and have a chat 
together. Of course the Frenchman was invited to 
the table. At breakfast the stranger said : “ I would 
187 


i88 


Social Sinners 


be greatly pleased to know the names of those of whose 
hospitality I am partaking. ” 

Karl introduced himself and his friend. “ You 
are familiar to me, ” said Karl ; “if I am not mis- 
taken, you worked for a short time in S’s factory, and 
left after you had a fight with a ruffian. 

“ Yes, I did work there for a short while, but I 
was not strong enough for the work, and the fight 
put me in a still worse plight. ” 

“You must have had much trouble and hardship 
in your life,’’ remarked Mr. Buck, sympathetically. 

,“ Yes, I have had enough to last me for a life- 
time. And now I think it is my duty to give an 
account of myself. You have shown your delicacy 
by not asking me any personal questions, but if my 
story interests you, I shall be happy to tell it to you. ” 
“We shall be glad to hear it, ” answered they. And 
while sipping his coffee he began as follows : 

“ My name is Eugene de St. Denis, and I am a 
Frenchman by birth. I was brought up with a view 
of taking literature as a profession and when success, 
began to smile on me, my career was brought to an 
end abruptly by an unfortunate circumstance which 
swept away all my worldly possessions, and left me 
penniless. 

“At the same time my health, which had always 
been rather delicate, began to fail, and I decided to go 
to the United States to recuperate both my purse and 
my health, thinking that physical work would strength- 
en my animal economy, which had not been exercised 
enough. I knew an American in Paris, who was 


Eugene’s Story 189 

highly connected here, and he gave me a letter to his 
brother-in-law, who is a judge in New York. I also 
met his daughter in Paris (here the speaker became 
slightly agitated), and I expected something from the 
judge, who is an influential man, though, of course, I 
relied more on myself than on anybody’s help. To 
make it short, when I came to this country over a 
year ago, and presented myself to his Honor, he dis- 
missed me with a piece of good advice, and his 
daughter treated me as if I had been a simple beggar. 

“ I met there a gentleman whom I had seen in Paris 
before, — he is now your District Attorney, his name is 
Curtis — ” At this the two friends exchanged aston- 
ished and significant looks, but the speaker continued — 
and he acted as if he had never known me, and snub- 
bed me completely. I left their house with a curse on 
my lips, the first I ever addressed to anybody. I had in 
my possession the sum of three dollars, and I decided 
to make the most of it before it was spent on food. I 
accordingly began to tramp the streets in search of 
employment, but without success. I was not wanted 
anywhere. 

‘‘ When my fortune was reduced to fifty cents, I 
left this city and went on foot to Philadelphia, in the 
hope of meeting with better success in the Quaker 
City. Once I slept in a barn, having stolen in with 
another fellow-traveller, who was in the same plight as 
myself. Under such circumstances one forms . very 
strange acquaintances. Another night we slept under 
a cluster of trees, not far from the wayside. Finally, 
tired and hungry wc reached Philadelphia. Having 


190 


Social Sinners 


partaken of a repast consisting of bread and washing 
it down with water at a public fountain, we secured a 
cheap lodging and again slept under a roof. 

Well, in Philadelphia, I succeeded after a tedious 
search in finding work, first as a window cleaner, then 
I figured as an advertising post for a firm dealing in 
furs. A bear’s skin was put on me, and in this 
I paraded the streets, to the great amusement of the 
urchins and the curiosity of the grown up people. 
I soon lost this job, and after having looked in 
vain for another one, I bent my steps to the New Eng- 
land States, to seek after work in the mills. My 
health meanwhile grew worse. A troublesome cough 
set in, which harassed me greatly. I also began to ex- 
perience chills and fevers, which would leave me weak 
and prostrated. At last I obtained work in a mill. I 
found the intelligent American workman kind-hearted 
and obliging, and though there was no great future in 
working in a mill as a common laborer, I would have 
remained there indefinitely, as I was weary of tramp- 
ing around ; but the air of the mill greatly aggravated 
my cough, and I was obliged to give it up. I had 
then a few dollars saved up and I came back to New 
York, with the hope of meeting with better success this 
time. After a while I secured work in S’s factory, 
where thousands of people are employed. Most of 
the workingmen there were either foreigners or born 
of foreign parents, and among the latter class I found 
the toughest, most selfish, brutal and depraved people, 
men as well as women. Being born of ignorant 
parents under American freedom, they transform 


Eugene’s Story 1 9 1 

liberty into license and brutality. Many of them are 
steeped in drunkenness and debauchery. 

As soon as I began work there, I was made the 
object of their brutal fun. They evidently recognized 
that I was not one of them. 

One fellow in particular annoyed me greatly. This 
was a big man, with a red neck, and the head and 
face of a chimpanzee. He attacked me and I had to 
fight him. Of course, I was badly beaten. 

I came home sore, bruised and bleeding in body 
and mind, with bitter tears of despair in my eyes. It 
was not the physical punishment that affected me so 
much, but the moral and intellectual degradation of 
having to mingle with such human beasts, and the 
depravity of mankind — to do harm for pleasure’s sake. 

I would have committed suicide then but on 
account of my views, as I consider that since we know 
not what life is and its purpose, we have no moral 
right to wilfully destroy it, no more our own life than 
that of somebody else, except in certain cases, which it 
would be out of place to discuss here. I kept to my 
room a whole week, being loath to venture out, as the 
sight of man made me almost shudder, and I would 
prefer to be rather among beasts in the forest than in 
a city supposed to be inhabited by civilized people. It 
was then that Rousseau’s famous essay to the effect 
that civilization has not increased our happiness came 
forcibly to my mind. But something more suggested 
itself to me, and that was that not only has not civi- 
lization done anything to make us happy, but it has 
not even improved our manners, of which it boasts 


192 


Social Sinners 


most, not to speak of our morals. Our manners are 
either extremely brutal, as instanced among the ignorant 
working classes of the large cities or highly con- 
ventional and ridiculous, as seen in the so-called high 
society. 

Engrossed by these ideas I bethought myself of 
trying my hand again at literature, since physical work 
failed entirely to do me any good. On the contrary, 
my health was still more reduced, my cough became 
more harassing, and my fevers severer and more pros- 
trating. I accordingly took up my pen again, which 
had been idle for so many months, and embodied my 
thoughts in a little novelette entitled The Triumph of 
the Brute ’V wherein my humble self figured as the 
victim. Having touched and retouched the work to 
my satisfaction, I went forth with it to Bluff Row, the 
place where the great dailies are located, and after 
some formalities was introduced into the august 
presence of the editor of one daily. He rejected it. 
So did several others. The truth finally dawned on 
me. One must make first a name, in order to have 
one’s writing accepted. But how can one make a 
name, if his first essays are rejected? That’s nobody’s 
business — hang yourself and get a name. 

Discouraged and broken hearted, I wearily wended 
my way homeward, if an obscure attic can be called 
so. I knew that even this refuge I could not enjoy 
long, as my resources were waning fast, and so was 
my health) and I was soon to become an actual tramp. 

Why did I not commit suicide? I ask again. A 
gentleman might say it was because of my weakness. 


193 


Eugene’s Story 

that if I had a strong character I could not live to 
endure such humiliations. Perhaps this is the case. 
But you know already my views on this subject. 

For weeks I tramped around in the city and in its 
vicinity, sleeping wherever it would happen, in a 
wagon, under a wagon, under a tree, or in a cheap 
lodging, when I would get the wherewithal to pay for 
it. 

But such a mode of existence ill agreed with my 
health. I was examined, before I became a tramp, 
by a specialist, who pronounced my affection as con- 
sumption. I was then, according to his statement, in 
the second stage. And now, I suppose I must be in 
the last stage. My health at last utterly broke down; 
I could not obtain even the little I wanted, as it is 
necessary to beg in many places before one can get 
anything, and, finally, exhausted by disease and 
hunger, I dropped on the side-walk in a faint, when 
thanks to you, my friends, I was picked up and have 
slept under a roof for the first time in a long while, 
and am also enjoying now a breakfast, such as I have 
not had for a still longer time. ” 

His listeners were greatly affected by this tale of 
human suffering and misery, and after thinking a 
while, Mr. Buck said : “ Now that you are here, you 
must consider this place as your home as long as you 
wish.’^ 

'' I thank you from the depth of my heart for your 
kindness, but I think my stay here will not be very 
long, as I feel that my disease is making great head- 
way, and I shall soon depart for a more peaceful place.’' 


194 


Social Sinners 


Oh, don't say that,” both hosts said, sympathetic- 
ally; “we hope you’ll be all right soon,” and as it was 
getting late in the afternoon Karl and Mr. Buck 
left on some business, promising to be back in the even- 
ing and have supper together. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


THE SICK MAN 

When Eugene woke up the next morning he found 
near him a new suit of clothes, and proceeded to attire 
himself, but was interrupted by an attack of coughing 
to which patients suffering from such a disease are sub- 
ject, especially in the morning. 

Mr. Buck, who was working in the adjoining room, 
was attracted by his guest’s troublesome .coughing and 
came to his assistance, and on perceiving him was 
struck by his wretched condition; somehow or other 
he had not noted it so well, the previous day. 

Yes, I think the poor fellow is right in saying that 
his stay here will not be long,” Mr. Buck thought to 
himself ; '' let us therefore try to alleviate his suffer- 
ing and make his last few days as pleasant for him as 
possible.” When the fit was over he said : “ My friend, 
you really must not neglect yourself so much ; you must 
consult a physician and obtain some relief.” 

Eugene smiled and replied : I know it is in vain, 
for I know my disease, and doctors can only write and 
talk about it, but when it comes to cure it, they are as 
powerless as reformers are to cure our social evils.” 

But as Mr. Buck insisted, having in view simply the 
195 


Social Sinners 


196 

relief of the troublesome symptoms, Eugene promised 
to visit one of the dispensaries during the day. 

Eugene visited the dispensary, got a palliative for 
his cough and started back. Presently he was greatly 
surprised t6 meet an old acquaintance, who was no less 
a person than Dr. Wunderlich, he of the microbian 
fame, whom he had met in Paris. To have judged by 
his shabby attire and “ seedy ” appearance microbe- 
hunting had evidently not proven a very profitable 
business. 

How does the world treat you and your discov- 
eries ? Eugene asked him after the first greetings 
and surprises at the unexpected meeting were over. 

As you can see by my appearance I have not been 
in clover. But how are you? You seem to have suc- 
ceeded better with your verses than I with my bacilli, 
for you have a new suit of clothes to your back.” 

Thereupon the two related to each other their ex- 
periences. 

Fortune had not smiled on the scientist, either. He 
had found the market in Europe over-crowded with 
germ hunters, and he came to the United States in the 
hope of finding a better opening here ; but the conditions 
in the New World were not such as he had expected, 
and he decided to return home soon. 

The two friends took an affectionate leave of each 
other and parted, never to meet again. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


AT THE OPERA 

Several weeks passed, Mr. Buck and Karl not 
letting Eugene leave them, knowing well that his end 
would come soon, as his disease made rapid strides. 
A physician was procured, who did everything in 
his power to alleviate the patient’s suffering and 
to make him comfortable, for nothing more, could 
be done for him. Eugene was overcome with grati- 
tude by the kindness of Mr. Buck and Karl, and tried 
to make himself as useful as his health would allow. 

“ I will die now with a peaceful mind and a for- 
giving heart. A short time ago I was bitter against 
humanity, as I have met only with coldness, selfish- 
ness and cruelty ; but now I see that there are men who 
redeem the evil of mankind,” he would say to Mr. 
Buck. 

And the two discussed all sorts of subjects, from art 
to theology. 

Eugene’s mind, in spite of his advanced affliction, 
remained clear and active, a characteristic peculiar to 
consumptives, whose mind in many instances is marked 
by hyperactivity. 

This, by the way, is in direct contradiction to the 
views expressed by some materialists that body and 
mind are the same thing, basing their assertions on 

197 


Social Sinners 


198 

the alleged facts that when the bendy is afflicted with 
disease the mind is also correspondingly affected. This 
is the case in some diseases but not in all. 

One day their discussion turned on theatres,- and 
the opera in particular. Mr. Buck was not much of 
a theatre goer. But Eugene as a poet admired grand 
opera, and to please his dying friend, they one evening 
repaired to the opera. A foreign group, most of 
whose members were known to Eugene, were to play 
that night “ Carmen, ” the daily tragedy of human 
existence and one of the few operas the libretto of 
which is based on real life, and hot on myth. 

They arrived early and secured comfortable seats 
on the parterre, or orchestra. 

Mr. Buck possessed the trait peculiar to an intelli- 
gent American of knowing a great many persons and 
their histories, especially persons of some importance, 
whose history is being spoken of. The two friends 
were in a very talkative mood, and as Eugene was for 
the first time at an opera in America, he naturally asked 
a great many questions, and was more curious to study 
the audience than to listen to the singers. He noticed 
that the first act had begun and the parterre boxes 
were all empty. 

“ Your aristocracy is just like ours, ” remarked he 
to his friend ; “ they keep their boxes more for show 
than for the love of art. ” At the end of the second 
act the boxes were filled up, and Eugene beheld a 
glittering audience — ^polished and powdered flesh 
decked out in silk, satin, and the precious metals and 
stones. 


At the Opera igg 

“ The whole human society is represented here in 
miniature, ” said Mr. Buck to his friend in an entr' 
acte, and they occupy in the world the positions 
which they relatively occupy here. Here,” pointing to 
the orchestra boxes, ‘‘ is the millionaires’ row, and as 
you ascend higher you will gradually find people with 
thinner purses, till you reach the top gallery, where you 
will meet people who have in all probability stinted 
themselves a whole week in their meals, to save 
enough to buy a ticket. But those people who sit 
highest as a rule also stand highest, for they come here 
from the love of art, and not for ostentation, unlike 
some of the people that sit lower, who come here to 
display the wealth which in numerous cases they un- 
scrupulously grabbed away from those who are now in 
the “ Sky parlor there.” 

“ And where is the literary class ? ” asked Eugene. 

“ What literary class ? I think you ought to know 
by this time,” said Mr. Buck, “ that we have no more 
literary men as such. They have been swallowed up 
by the modem newspaper, and become simply journey- 
men writing to order, and very often against their con- 
science. A literary man can not exist, unless he were 
connected with a newspaper, when he loses his personal- 
ity and becomes merely an appendage of the paper. ” 

“ The difference between our old aristocracy and 
your young, robust one is,” said Eugene, ‘‘ that ours 
arrays itself in finery to cover the corruption and de- 
pravity of centuries, and yours bedecks itself in glitter- 
ing gems to offset its mental dullness. ” 

“ Vice is easily learned, ” replied Mr. Buck, '' and 


200 


Social Sinners 


ours does not consist of white-winged doves either. 
There you see a woman who has been divorced from 
her husband, a millionaire, and pretty soon married the 
man, another millionaire, who was the cause of the di- 
vorce. And there again you see a similiar instance. 
Only our aristocracy seems to take it as a matter of 
course, and is not a bit shocked even for appearance’s 
sake. Probably because all the parties belong to the 
same set, and many things are overlooked en famillej* 

“ Que diable ! in our country they like variety, in 
vice and never would a millionaire’s wife have for her 
amant another millionarie ; she would get, for instance, 
an army officer, ” remarked Eugene with French levity 
in which every Frenchman likes to indulge on some 
occasions. 

“ In our country they are practical even in their 
sins, ” observed Mr. Buck. 

“ Now, look here, sir, ” said Eugene seriously, in 
the low classes we find depravity, barbarity and brutal- 
ity; in the high, corruption, vice and cruelty; in the 
middle classes, hypocrisy and sordidness with a desire 
to enter the ranks of the higher class — , and how will 
your moral evolution ever come to pass ? Even in this 
New Republic, with all the bitter lessons of the Old 
World, I see you are not far advanced in morality. 
How will you reach it then ? ” 

Well, my boy, this New Republic of ours will teach 
everybody a lesson, that it is not enough to change the 
form of government to make people moral and happy, 
but it is necessary that there shall be a change in 
peoples’ minds and hearts respecting their moral ob- 


At the Opera 


201 


ligations towards one another, which I hope will be 
sooner or later realized. ’’ 

In the third entr’acte the two friends scanned the 
occupants of the various boxes, Mr. Buck, like a veri- 
table encyclopedia, supplying all the information to his 
friend. 

“ Who is that one ? ” asked Eugene, pointing to a 
stout woman dressed in a black gown trimmed with 
argenterie displaying a vast, white, fat *bosom and a 
short, fat neck, from which hung numerous jewels, and 
fanning herself desperately with one hand, and holding 
an opera glass in the other, which she now and then 
applied to her eyes and trained on some people in the 
boxes. 

‘‘ That is Mrs. Moneybag, whose grandfather was a 
common laborer, but she is now the leader of the aristo- 
cratic set, and claims to be a descendant of royalty, ” 
explained Mr. Buck. 

Eugene next raised his eyes to the grand-tier boxes. 

And who is that beautiful worn — ” began he, point- 
ing to a box ; but he stopped suddenly, became red and 
then ghastly pale, and a fit of coughing seized him, 
which nearly choked him, and made many in the 
audience turn their heads in his direction, among them 
the beauty in one of the grand-tier boxes. 

What ails you ? ” Mr. Buck asked in great alarm ; 
but the other became livid from the fit and could not 
answer, whereupon his friend helped him outside, 
where after a while he grew better and expressed a 
desire to return home, thinking that the fresh air would 
do him good, to which Mr. Buck readily assented. 


202 


Social Sinners 


The latter noticed the District-Attorney in the box 
with the young lady, and having recalled to his mind 
that his friend had related how he had been snubbed 
by that official, he concluded that his sudden fit was 
provoked by the sight of that official, who stirred up 
bitter recollections. 

“ Has the sight of our District- Attorney affected 
you so much?” asked he innocently. 

Eugene had not told him of his unfortunate love, 
as he wanted to keep it to himself. But now, since the 
question was put to him squarely by Mr. Buck, he had 
to tell his story or lie — something of which Eugene, 
unlike many of his countrymen, was not capable. 

“ No, it was not so much the man as the woman. 
My attention had been too much absorbed by so many 
new persons and things, that I had not noticed her 
till the last. Besides, I had not expected to meet her 
there, and I think her box had been empty during the 
first half of the performance. 

“ The sight of the woman gave me a shock, which 
brought on that fit, for she I can say, is responsible 
to a great extent for my present wretchedness. ” 

And when they arrived home and rested awhile, he 
told his two friends all about his unfortunate love. 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


ENGAGED 

Curtises courtship of May Clayton ended in their 
formal engagement a short time prior to the opera 
night described in the last chapter, which engagement, 
however, he tried to keep out of publicity for reasons 
of modesty and out of reverence for his defunct spouse, 
as he explained to May, but in reality from motives of 
a different nature. 

Barbara continued to hang like a mill-stone on his 
neck. She had been kept in ignorance respecting the 
death of his spouse, and he knew tliat if by chance she 
should become aware of it, his marriage to May would 
be thwarted. He accordingly tried to keep out refer- 
ences to his engagement from the papers as much as 
possible, and also to hasten the wedding, think- 
ing that when May once became his legal helpmeet, 
she would not give credence to Barbara’s claims for 
her own sake, and if then his former mistress should 
not be willing to accept a settlement, he would “ shake 
her off ” unceremoniously. 

After their engagement, when their marriage was 
more or less assured, and the charm and intoxication 
which are generally found in connection with for- 
bidden fruit were over, May, from no definite causes, 


203 


Social Sinners 


^04 

was frequently visited by vague fears concerning her 
future marital bliss, in consequence of which she was 
not so happy as an engaged bride is supposed to be. 
Mrs. Curtis’s words with regard to her ill-treatment 
by her husband unwillingly came to May’s mind, and 
though she had long dismissed them as in no way 
applicable to her own case, yet her misgivings were 
not entirely allayed. 

She also gave occasionally a thought to tricks and 
deceptions which she had herself practised on some 
of the male sex, and she wondered whether there was 
such a thing as retribution on this earth, and whether 
she would have to pay for the broken hearts that she 
had caused. Eugene crossed her mind often, and she 
wondered what had become of him, and she also 
wondered whether Curtis had had any love affairs be- 
fore he had been married to Clara. Woman-like she 
once said to him : 

‘‘People say that when you trifle with another’s 
affection you have to pay for it in kind, and your 
married life is bound to be a failure. I wonder whether 
our life will be a happy one. ” 

, “What puts such silly thoughts in your head?” 
asked he. 

“ Nothing. I think it is quite natural to think over 
such matters before one goes to the altar, ” and after 
a while she said, “ Did you have any love-affairs before 
you were married?” and looked him straight in his 
face. 

“ Is it an inquisition? ” replied he with a dry laugh. 

“ No, indeed; did you or not? I have heard it said 


205 


Engaged 

that men now-a-days seldom if ever give their first 
love to the woman they marry, persisted she with 
feminine inquisitiveness. 

“ Oh, please don’t ask such silly questions. Let us 
talk of something more interesting. I have an in- 
vitation to the opera box of Mr. L. for the whole 
season, in payment for legal services rendered to him. 
You will have, then, opera to your heart’s content. ” 

It was a few weeks subsequent to the above con- 
versation that Eugene met them at the opera. They 
arrived late, owing to some important business which 
had detained Curtis, and Eugene therefore had not 
noticed them till later in the evening. When he did 
look at them, owing to the mysterious force which 
makes one turn around when one is being gazed at, 
they in their turn perceived him and trained their opera 
glasses on him. 

There is somebody you have met before, ” re- 
marked he with a mischievous smile. But she was 
so absorbed that she did not hear him and continued 
examining the Frenchman. She noted his frightful 
emaciation and the great change that had occurred in 
him, so that he was only a shadow of his former self. 
She also heard his painful cough, and saw his great 
suffering, which was evident by his contracted features, 
and she became pale and agitated, — for what woman 
will not sympathise with the wretchedness of her 
earnest admirer, when he is not a troublesome fellow 
and knows how to keep at a distance when he is 
desired to do so? She felt that she was to a great 
extent the cause of that boy’s misery, and she became 


2o6 


Social Sinners 


all of a sudden conscience-smitten, and experienced a 
bitter feeling of regret and mortification. Curtis 
watched her not without a tinge of jealousy — a trait 
peculiar to small minds. 

You seem not to have entirely lost interest in the 
Frenchman, ” remarked he, rather ironically. 

“ Oh the poor fellow, he must be very sick,” she said 
feelingly, not noticing her companion’s taunt. 

“ Come, come, we came here to listen to the woes 
of Don Jose, and not to those of the insignificant little 
Frenchman, ” retorted he. I wish I were in his 
place, to receive your sympathy, ” continued he 
gallantly, giving her an affectionate look. 

She did not enjoy the rest of the performance, and 
was glad when it was over, returning home with fore- 
bodings regarding the future. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 

BARBARA'S DISCOVERY 

In Spite of Curtis’s desire to keep his engagement out 
of the newspapers, his frequent appearances with May 
at public places could not escape the attention of the 
newspaper men, who came to regard their engagement 
as an accomplished fact, before it had been publicly 
announced. 

Barbara was not a diligent newspaper reader, and 
some matters of interest to her had therefore escaped 
her. But about a week after the memorable opera 
night, she chanced to pick up a newspaper and to 
glance at an account given of some social function at 
which Curtis and May were present. 

It was stated there that the couple had of late been 
seen together frequently, and as far as could be learned 
from intimate friends they had been actually engaged. 

When Barbara learned of this, she experienced 
nearly the same sensation that she had when she had 
read of his marriage to Miss Silverton; but owing to 
the fact that a longer and closer acquaintance with the 
man taught her to mistrust him and that this time he 
was not married, but only presumably engaged, she 
was not so painfully affected as the first time. As he 
was to call on her the same evening she impatiently 
207 


2o8 Social Sinners 

awaited his arrival, thinking it useless to go out and 
hunt for him. 

When he came in the evening, she picked up the 
paper as soon as he entered, and, pointing to the in- 
criminating article, exclaimed, livid with rage: 

“ False man ! deceiver ! Look here, what is said about, 
you! You are engaged to marry a Miss Clayton, you 
who told me right along that you could not marry 
me because you have a wife living ! I will not be your 
dupe longer. I will show you what I will do ! 

Curtis who was not taken entirely by surprise, as 
he had constantly feared that she might learn of his 
engagement in some way or another, was prepared for 
it and replied, “ Do you believe the nonsensical news- 
paper talk? Do you believe what you saw in this 
paper, which is my enemy and never tells the truth 
about anything or anybody? Why, that’s all hum- 
bug. My social and political duties require me to be 
pleasant to the Claytons, because I owe them very 
much. And the story about my engagement is all stuff 
and nonsense. ” 

And how about Mrs. Curtis, as I understand from 
the article there is no more a Mrs. Curtis now ? For I 
read here, ” pointing to the paper, “ ‘ Since the death of 
the much beloved and highly esteemed Mrs. Curtis 
the bereaved husband is seen very frequently in the 
company of Miss Clayton, and their engagement, it is 
said, will soon be announced publicly. ’ Do you mean 
to say that your enemies also invented the death of 
your wife ? Fine enemies they are, indeed. Why, you 
always said you wished she should die, ” and she 


Barbara’s Discovery 209 

looked him straight in the eyes, trembling with rage 
and excitement. 

He saw that it would be useless to deny the death 
of his wife, for he knew Barbara was not so foolish 
as to believe that this was also a newspaper invention, 
and he said ; My dear girl, I wanted to keep this a 
secret from you till I am ready to marry you, when 
I thought to surprise you by announcing to you her 
death together with my readiness to make you my 
wife. Oh, you silly thing, don’t you trust me? Just 
wait a few months, just a few short months and 
you’ll see, ” and he took her tenderly in his arms, 
covered her with kisses and spent with her a long while 
in intimacy, and thus succeeded in allaying her sus- 
picions to some extent. 

When he left her, and she began to turn over the 
matter in her mind, doubt and mistrust gradually 
crept in, and, finally, she was overcome by the terrible 
conviction that the man lied to her, and wanted to 
dupe her the same as he had done before. She re- 
called his words and his actions, and she could not but 
see that there was not a tinge of sincerity in them and 
that the man was consciously deceiving her. She 
passed the night sleepless and feverish, her mind and 
body racked by the most excruciating torments which 
fall to the lot of a woman in her condition to bear. 

Like a shipwrcked wretch awaiting the sign of a 
mast or sail, did she await the dawn of the day, to hie 
to Miss Clayton and find out from that lady the 
truth concerning this matter. She considered this a 
very wise course to take, as in case there was no en- 


210 


Social Sinners 


gagment there could be no harm done to that woman, 
and if there was, she would be warned in time that 
there was another, prior claim on the man. The 
Claytons’ address, of course, she could easily find in 
any directory. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


THE REVELATION 

When daylight came and Barbara thought the time 
was ripe for calling, she took her two children along, 
went out from the house, and on finding the address 
she wanted, bent her steps towards her destination, 
which she soon reached. 

She rang the bell and was met by the same maid- 
servant that had responded when Eugene had called 
over a year before. The servant expressed still greater 
surprise this time when she saw before her a woman 
with two children desiring to see her mistress. She 
thought it was in all probability a genteel beggar, and 
wanted to turn her out; but the visitor was persistent 
and stated emphatically that she wished to see the 
young lady on personal business, whereupon she was 
told to wait in the vestibule, while the servant went to 
confer with her mistress. 

It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and May 
was then busy with her toilet, as she expected Curtis 
in the early afternoon to take her out for a drive, and 
she also had to do some shopping, so she was inclined 
at first to refuse the interview, but as the servant said 
that the visitor claimed very urgent personal business, 
she came down to meet her. 


212 


Social Sinners 


''Well, what can I do for you, madam?” asked 
she of the visitor rather abruptly, being irritated for 
having been disturbed at such an inopportune moment. 

" Are you Miss May Clayton ? ” 

" Yes, that is my name, and you will greatly oblige 
me by informing me what I can do for you, as I am 
very busy now. ” 

" I want to talk to you alone for a few moments, ” 
answered Barbara, looking at the servant, who re^ 
mained with them. 

" You can speak, we are alone, ” remarked May 
impatiently. The servant took the hint and withdrew to 
an adjoining room, but having been endowed with 
a good portion of curiosity, she crouched on the floor 
and applied her eye to the key-hole of the door to await 
developments. 

Barbara looked around, as if to assure herself that 
they were alone, and said in a quivering voice : " Miss, 
I read in a paper that you are engaged to marry 
Frederick Curtis, is that true?” 

May’s pride revolted at such a question, coming as 
it did from an utter stranger, and in a towering rage 
she haughtily demanded : " Is that what you come 
for? How dare you ask me such a question? Who 
are you ? Wliat are you ? ” 

" I am, ” answered the other in a voice hoarse from 
emotion, " a poor, deceived and disgraced woman, and 
the cause of my downfall is the man to whom you are 
engaged. ” 

May was dumfounded to hear the woman say that 


The Revelation 


213 


She stood like one petrified, but suddenly recovering: 
her pride and haug^htiness, exclaimed: '‘That can not 
be! you lie, woman! Where have you been all this 
time! Bring proofs, proofs ! You understand? 

“ Oh proofs — here they are, ” retorted the other ; 
pointing to the two children who were cowering in a 
corner, “ here is my shame and disgrace, and here is the 
man’s perfidy ! ” And she burst out in tears. The 
poor waifs had a striking resemblance to their father, 
and the conviction was forced on May that she was 
being duped by the man as that woman had been, and 
wounded in her vanity, humbled and discomfited, it 
cost her a great efifort to restrain herself from crying 
— the feminine resource for relief, — not wishing to 
show her weakness before the other woman. 

Wait in the next room ; he will come soon. I ex- 
pect him any moment, ” said May. Whereupon she 
took her visitor to the adjoining room, but how great 
was her indignation when, on opening the door, she 
found the servant crouching on the floor in the act 
of spying on them ! She did not want any one to know 
of her humiliation, and she vented her rage on the 
maid. 

What are you doing here ! How dare you spy on 
me, you wench ! ” exclaimed she furiously. 

Ma’am I— I — thought you wan — wanted me — ” 
stammered the maid. 

I wanted you ? Get out from here, you mean 
thing ! ” and she hurled at her some book she picked 
up at random, which however missed the mark, as the 


Social Sinners 


214 

maid was fleet of foot and retreated on the double 
quick, and, on reaching* breathless the servants^ hall, 
told all about what she saw and heard. 

A few minutes later Curtis entered, gay and whist- 
ling a popular air. 

“ Good morning, my darling,” he said to May, ap- 
proaching nearer, but noticing all at once her changed 
appearance, he was startled and drew back. 

“ What is the matter, my dear? What do you mean 
by such looks ? ” 

Pale, nervous, with her features distorted, she fixed 
on him her scornful and contemptuous gaze, and said : 

Don’t dare to address me thus, you base deceiver ! ” 
and she opened the door of the room in which Bar- 
bara was. 

It was Curtis’s turn now to become dumfounded and 
petrified. But he soon recovered and addressing Bar- 
bara said. “ Woman, what do you mean by coming 
here ? I don’t know you ! ” 

She flew at him with tooth and nail, and expressed 
her feelings in very strong factory language, a taste 
of which she had given him before, at their first 
quarrel, related at the commencement of this history. 

Rascal ! Brute ! Say a few more words and I’ll 
scratch out your eyes! Do you dare to deny every- 
thing!” 

Now, one furious woman is apt to disconcert a 
brave man, but two furies were more than even Curtis 
who was by nature very brave, could stand, and he 
would have preferred hell a thousand times better, 
and had the earth opened itself and swallowed him, as 


The Revelation 


215 


once occurred, according to the Bible, in the case of 
some rebellious persons, he would have accepted this 
happy deliverance with blessings. But the earth re- 
mained solid under him, and the two enraged women 
were facing him. 

Finally, May said, “ Go hence, and take this woman 
with you, and never dare to show your face again to 
me!” 

It is unnecessary to say that Curtis seized the op- 
portunity and speedily retired, not without, however, 
protesting his innocence, and promising to prove it 
soon. 

Barbara soon followed him. 

A few minutes later Judge Clayton entered. May’s 
floodgates were by this time fully open, and almost 
choking with tears and sobs, she informed her father 
that her engagement was broken, that she would never 
marry, that men were false. 

And for that matter women are still more so,” 
thought the old Justice, who only a few nights before 
had been fleeced of a considerable sum of money by a 
vivacious and fickle blonde. 

‘‘ It is a woman’s caprice ; she will soon be over it, ” 
said the Justice to himself as he retired to his study, 
after he had tried in vain to obtain from his daughter 
a coherent report of what had happened. 


CHAPTER XL 


MAY AND EUGENE 

A WEEK or SO after the above occurrence May^s 
wounded pride and heart began to recover, and her 
suffering was somewhat allayed, as her love for Curtis 
was not very deep, she having regarded him more as a 
suitable match than as a lover, and in such a 
case a woman easily recovers from her disappoint- 
ment. 

But for some reason or other, probably from 
association of ideas, as our learned friends — the 
psychologists, would say, her thoughts unwillingly 
reverted to Eugene. She had broken many hearts, but 
as far as she could learn, all those gentleman were 
afterwards either married or enjoyed life in single 
blessedness, without apparently being the worse for the 
injuries to their central vital organs, which she caused 
by her trifling with them. Many of these gentlemen 
had sworn to her that they would not survive another 
twenty-four hours, etc., but she saw them a few months 
later hale and hearty, as if their terrible disappoint- 
ment had infused life and vigor into them, and she 
therefore gave very little credence to men’s protesta- 
tions of love and suffering. Eugene was practically 
the only one of her rejected lovers whom she saw in 
216 


May and Eugene 217 

such a bad plight, and her vanity ascribed his condition 
exclusively to his unfortunate love. 

Whether or not a woman reciprocated the affection 
of the man who she thinks died from a hopeless love 
for her, she likes in after life to dwell on this point, 
parading it before her friends, accompanying it now 
and then with a sigh and an expression of sympathy 
for the poor unfortunate fellow. 

May probably would not have gone further than that 
if she herself had not met with adversity in the same 
line; but adversity is said to teach some unfeeling 
persons how to sympathize with others, and she there- 
fore frequently thought of the fellow who was perhaps 
dying on her account. She felt herself almost re- 
sponsible for his wretchedness; and she was inclined 
to the belief that her own reverses were a retribution 
of Providence for her heartlessness with regard to that 
innocent boy. The more she thought of it, the more 
she was overcome by a moral conviction that it was 
her duty to find out the poor sufferer and to make 
amends to him. Of course, the idea of marrying him 
did not enter into her mind, but see him she must 
anyhow, ^ — and the reader is well enough acquainted 
with her to know that once her mind was made up she 
would not retreat. 

Accordingly, she had inserted a personal in several 
newspapers to the effect that the address of such and 
such a person was wanted, etc., and a few days later 
she received the desired address, which was forwarded 
to her by Mr. Buck, who had happened to read the 
personal. She called the same day, in the afternoon. 


2i8 


Social Sinners 


Eugene contracted a severe cold on his way from 
the opera that night, and this, in addition to his great 
excitement and the shock, greatly aggravated his mal- 
ady, which was to terminate fatally sooner than it 
would under better conditions. Hence, when May 
called he was sinking fast. His two friends decided 
to keep him till the last, and were unwilling to send 
hin^to a hospital. 

When she came, Mr. Buck was busying himself 
around the sick bed, and he advanced with an ex- 
pression of surprise on his face to meet the elegant and 
beautiful young woman, who evidently belonged to 
another world. 

She was not less astonished than he to find herself 
amidst such surroundings. She had not been before 
in the poor sections of the city and still less in such a 
poor habitation. She thought it was a mistake, as she 
could not imagine that her rejected lover was living 
in such quarters. 

“ Does Mr. Eugene de St. Denis live here? asked she 
in great wonder, showing the address. Mr. Buck’s 
workingman’s garb did not add in her eyes to the 
elegance of the environments. He understood, how- 
ever, who the visitor was, having a faint recollection 
of her since that opera night, and he said: 

“ Yes, madam, he is here, but I am afraid you are 
too late. ” 

She grew pale and asked in a trembling voice ; “ Is 
he so low ? Oh, please, let me see him immediately. ” 

Mr. Buck led her into the dying man’s room, and as 


May and Eugene 219 

they entered, he inquired in a hoarse, sepulchral voice. 
Who is it?^’ 

May shuddered at the sight of the human wreck, in 
whom she could hardly recognize the former handsome 
young man. 

His staring eyes were dull and lustreless; he was 
frightfully emaciated, and his skin of a dingy hue was 
covered with a week’s growth of beard, which made his 
appearance far from attractive. His heavy breathing 
and a few rattles in his throat announced the beginning 
of the end. May knelt near him, and took his cold, 
clammy hands into hers, which caused a shiver to pass 
through her; but she was so wrought up that she 
held on and, with tears in her eyes, cried : “ Oh, 
Eugene, look at me; it is I, May; do you recognize 
me?” 

Oh, you have come at last ? ” answered he feebly 
and hoarsely ; merci, merci, I thought you would 
never come again. ” 

Yes, I have come, ” cried she, “ and will always 
stay with you. Oh, please, please, try and get well. ” 

“ I am well, I am well, only that, ” making a painful 
effort to point to his throat. 

He tried to rise, but only became exhausted, and 
his breathing grew stertorous and the rattling in the 
throat increased. 

May, frightened, ran into the other room to find 
Mr. Buck, who had left them alone for that supreme 
moment. 

'' Oh, please, quick send for a doctor, ” cried she ; 


220 


Social Sinners 


“ and as soon as he gets better I will have him trans- 
ferred to my house, where he can have better accommo- 
dations.’^ 

Mr. Buck mournfully shook his head, but as she 
insisted he sent for the nearest doctor. 

The medico came in, looked at the patient, shook 
his head and said : “ It is too late, you should have 

called me in earlier. ” And he pocketed his fee and 
went out very proud of his great wisdom. 


CHAPTER XLI 


ANOTHER TRAGEDY 

In another part of the town another tragedy was 
enacted simultaneously with the one described above, 
and the actors in this drama were Barbara and Curtis. 

When the latter left May’s residence after he had 
been confronted by the two women, he was so over- 
whelmed by feelings of ire, disappointment and humil- 
iation that he took a train and left the city in order to 
remain alone, not to be disturbed by anybody, and to 
devise future plans for action. His wrath against Bar- 
bara knew no bounds. He considered himself now the 
injured party and the victim of that woman’s perfidy. 

How did she dare to be so mean and treacherous ! ” 
thought he. He was afraid to meet heV lest he should 
be tempted to crush her life out. He knew that the 
turning point in his relations with Barbara had been 
reached, and that it must end in one way or another. 
Before he left he sent a telegram to his office to the 
effect that he was suddenly called out of town on ur- 
gent business. 

Barbara returned home, and having waited till the 
following day and not seeing him come, she went forth 
to learn his whereabouts. She in her turn decided 
that the matter must be ended then and there, but for 


221 


222 


Social Sinners 


her there could be no compromise, — she must be made 
his legal spouse or perish. She had borne her shame 
and disgrace long enough, and the man had played her 
false so long that she was determined to give him no 
quarter. 

Of course, she suspected that their marriage, if it 
should come to pass, might not be unalloyed bliss, — 
but what did it matter? Was not her present life most 
miserable and disgraceful ? And who knows ? Per- 
haps by dint of devotion and fine tact he might learn 
to respect me in the end. ” 

But she had searched for him in vain. In his office 
she was told that he had left town, and that was all. 

As she knew that sooner or later he must turn up, 
unless he had ended his miserable existence, an idea 
that she could nbt entertain seriously, for she knew 
him too well to surmise that such an affair would drive 
him to extremes, she settled down to await develop- 
ments. 

At the end of a week he suddenly, one evening, 
turned up in her house. 

As soon as he crossed the threshold, she jumped 
up, and began, ''Oh, at last — ” but he made an 
imperative motion to her to be quiet, and said in a 
well studied, firm voice: "Listen, Barbara, I came 
here to put an end to our troubles; the thing can not 
last longer this way — 

" Of course it cannot — ’’ interrupted she. 

" Well, you just listen till the end. You know very 
well that it would be utterly impossible for us to get 
married. 


Another Tragedy 223 

And why not, pray ? asked she vehemently. 

“ Because that would be my ruin — our ruin, our 
stations in life are so differ — ’’ but before he could 
finish she rushed at him, livid with rage, crying: 

Scoundrel, say another word, and Til tear your face 
off. I was good enough for you for that thing, and 
now I am beneath you to marry me, you — ” 

He evidently had prepared himself for such out- 
bursts, for without losing his temper, and with the self- 
assurance and calmness engendered by the conscious- 
ness of superior strength — for she was no match to him, 
though as a woman she was powerful — he restrained 
her and said in a commanding tone of voice : “ I would 
advise you to listen to me till^ I finish. I can assure 
you, you will regret it if you don’t. Now I repeat 
again, we can’t get married, it is out of the 
question; but I want to be generous with you, 
more generous than many a man would be with you, 
for you have played me a mean trick ; but I am 
used to forgive, and I will settle on you and the 
children a certain sum to keep you above want all your 
lifetime, on condition that you sign a paper releasing 
me from all claims. Well, what do you say to that? ” 
“ I say that I’ll see you die ten times before I’ll agree 
to that, ” answered she, quivering with hate and wrath. 

Thereupon he grew furious. To the h with 

you, ” hissed he, “ you have been the cause of my ruin 
and all my troubles in life. If you don’t agree to what 
I have proposed, you won’t get a broken cent. Do 
you hear? Not a broken pin will you get from me, ” 
And so saying he was opening the door preliminary to 


224 


Social Sinners 


go out. She caught a cup and hurled it at his head, 
but he dodged it, escaped unhurt, and immediately 
disappeared behind the door and in the street. 

Barbara’s brain was on fire; she had played the last 
trump and lost, and there was nothing left for her to 
do but to founder together with her betrayer. Her 
whole body and mind were filled with one word, Re- 
venge ! ” 

Wherever she went she saw red before her 
eyes; everything seemed to her to whirl, to turn up- 
side down; human faces seemed to her distorted, dis- 
figured and mocking her in her disgrace and wretched- 
ness. She saw in the whole world only her betrayer, 
and the injury he had^ done her. She procured a 
weapon, loaded it, and went in search of him. For 
three days she could not find him. She had not tasted 
any food, and was pale, haggard, and buoyed up only 
by her terrible desire of revenge. 

Finally, one day as she entered his office, she saw 
him standing and talking to a clerk, whereupon she 
whipped out her weapon, and exclaiming: “Take this, 
you betrayer, ” began firing at him. He crouched 
behind a desk for protection, and she, thinking that 
her devilish work had been accomplished, turned the 
weapon on herself and fired. 

She was more succcessful with herself than with her 
betrayer. He was only slightly wounded and she died 
instantaneously. To the newspapers it was given out 
that the woman had been demented, and had come be- 
fore to the office, acting very queerly, and as she had 
nobody to avenge her, her mother having died and her 


Another Tragedy 225 

sister having married and gone West, and not cor- 
responding with each other, as is usually the case 
among this class of people, the matter was temporarily 
hushed up, till the next election. 

Karl, for the sake of old friendship for the family, 
claimed the body, and had it buried side by side with 
the other victim of social iniquity, Eugene de St. Denis. 


CHAPTER XLII 


AFTERMATH 

Two years had passed since the events related above 
transpired. No perceptible changes took place in the 
world during that lapse of time, but changes occurred 
in the lives of some of the persons connected with our 
history. Curtis’s term of office expired, and with it his 
political life. 

The mysterious shooting, which was hinted at darkly 
by the antagonistic newspapers, the animosity of 
Justice Clayton, who was a power in his party, on ac- 
count of his daughter’s disappointment, and the advent 
of a more prudent rival, — put an end to Curtis’s po- 
litical aspirations and relegated hiin to the background, 
among the “ had-beens. ” 

May Clayton was so much affected by the deception 
of her betrothed and the tragic end of her rejected 
lover, that she vowed to atone for her past frivolities 
by renouncing worldly pleasures and devoting her life 
to charity work, a vow that she kept faithfully in spite 
of her father’s remonstrances to the contrary. 

From a letter she received from her uncle of Paris, in 
the meantime, we learned something with regard to 
226 


Aftermath 


227 

some persons familiar to the reader, and we think it 
best to reproduce here a portion of it verbatim: 

“Now, as you are probably interested to know the 
fate of some of the persons you met at my home, I can 
gratify your desire by giving you brief information 
concerning them. I have heard that Dr. Wunderlich, 
the germ-hunter, has obtained a position in a labora- 
tory in Germany, at a paltry remuneration, and is work- 
ing hard at his favorite occupation, finding in it the 
pleasure of his life. I wish him success from the bot- 
tom of my heart ! 

“ The two Russians you met at our house, those who 
took it for granted that the present iniquitous social 
system would soon be replaced by a more equitable 
one, and who grappled only with the difficulty of de- 
tails, returned to Russia, and in an evil hour their opin- 
ions reached the ears of his Majesty’s officials. The 
latter did not view the matter in the same light, re- 
garding such opinions as the result of an overheated, 
abnormally excited brain, and the two Russians were 
quickly transferred to a very cold corner of Siberia, 
and by this time their brains as well as their whole 
bodies are probably very cold indeed. 

“ Last but not least comes our nobleman, Le Baron 
de la Blaque. ‘Of late he has so much exhausted his 
credit that he has had great hardship in obtaining the 
price of a simple meal. As luck would wish it, how- 
ever, a new patriotic league has recently been formed 
in France, with the object as it appears of restoring to 
the French throne some scion of Royalty (you must 
really excuse me from giving you details as I care not 
to waste the ink and paper in this matter), of abusing 
foreigners, Protestants, Free Masons, and a host of 
other things, — and in this party our noble Frenchman 
has enlisted himself. He does for them some odd jobs, 
and receives now and then a few francs; but what is 


Social Sinners 


i 


228 

for him better still, he is occasionally invited by an 
opulent partisan to a fine dinner or supper, with no 
restriction on the wines, a thing that is very attractive 
to our nobleman. Such is life ! 

“ As to ourselves, we continue leading our monot- 
onous, uneventful life, and we shall probably do so 
till the end, if nothing happens to interfere with our 
plans. 

“ Please accept the best wishes for your welfare 
from my wife, and from 

“ Your afifectionate uncle, 

“ Remington."" 

As to Karl Schmalzkopf, the death of the woman 
who had been the cause of his suffering cast a veil of 
oblivion on his past painful experience, and his heart, 
with the trait peculiar to this complex and mysterious 
organ while in the prime of life — and sometimes also 
even when in its decline — began to yearn again for love 
and the desire of perpetuating the species, and pretty 
soon he was enabled to attain this end. 

A buxom German girl, a distant relative of his, ar- 
rived in the United States, and he paid her a good deal 
of attention. Remembering, however, his bitter ex- 
perience he was very cautious and wary. But these 
precautions were quite needless, as this young woman, 
who had no ambition of becoming a great “ lady,” felt 
honored by the attentions of the sober and industrious 
workman, and the whole thing passed off without a 
hitch, so much so, in fact, that there is hardly any- 
thing worth chronicling. A year later their union was 
blessed by the birth of a bouncing baby boy, who was 
named Thomas, after Mr. Thomas Buck. 


Aftermath 


229 


The latter was prevailed upon by the young couple 
to make his home with them, as they were loath to part 
with him. 

“ I am glad there will be an heir left to continue our 
teaching when we are both gone,” said Mr. Buck to 
Karl. 

And so he will,” answered the other, looking 
proudly at his heir, who by his lusty yells proved to be 
possessed of a strong pair of lungs, and gave indica- 
tions of being able in the future to continue Mr. Buck’s 
teachings. 


THE END. 







THE 


Bbbcy press 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 
NEW YORK 


ANNOUNCEMENTS 


May be ordered through 
any bookseller or will be 
mailed free for the pub- 
lished price 


1 


AUTHORS AND ARTISTS 


# 


Collins, Wilkie. 
Cruikshank, George, Jr. 

De Mezailles, Jean. 
Dickens, Charles. 
Drummond, Henry. 
Flattery, M. Douglas. 
Gardner, W. H. 

Graham, Marie. 

Hamilton, Sam A. 

Hamm, Margherita Arlina 
Hartt, Irene Widdemer. 
Howard, Xiady Constance. 
Jennings, Fdwin 15. 
Johnson, Stanley Edwards. 
Jokai, Maurus. 

Karen, E. Thomas. 
Kearney, Belle. 


Kent, Charles. 
Mankowski, Mary D. 
Martyn, Carlos. 

Miller, Andrew J. 

Munu, Charles Clark. 
Napoliello, K. K. 

Palier, Emile A. 

Parkes, Harry. 

Pash, Florence. 

Kideal, Charles F. 
Runyan, N. P. 

Scribner, Kimball. 
Stevenson, Robert Xouis. 
Tabor, Edward A. 
Tolstoy, Count. 

Walker, Jessie A. 
Winter, C. Gordon. 


a 


ADVERTISING AGENTS’ DIRECTORY, THE. 

Arranged alphabetically and in States, including 
Great Britain and Canada. Nothing of this 
kind has ever before appeared. All who for 
any reason wish to know who the advertising 
agents are and how they may be reached, will 
find the desired information here. The Directory 
is brought down strictly to date. Cloth. One 
Dollar. 

AMERICAN ELOQUENCE. 

Characteristic Types from Colonial Times to the 
Present Day. A Text Book of Oratory. By 
Carlos Martyn. 

AMEIOCAN MEN OF THE TIME. 

Being a Dictionary of Biographical Records of 
Eminent Men of the Day. Revised to date and 
edited by Charles F. Rideal, Fellow of the Royal 
Society of Literature. 

AMERICAN VTOMEN OF THE TIME. 

Being a Dictionary of Biographical Records of 
Eminent Living Women. Revised to date and 
edited by Charles F. Rideal, Fellow of the Royal 
Society of Literature. It is the first time a book 
of reference of this kind has been compiled in the 
interests of any women in any country. The ef- 
forts of the publishers will be directed towards 
the end of securing a standard work, founded on 
reliable data, and which will be a suitable addi- 
tion to any bookshelf. 

CHARLES DICKENS’ HEROINES AND WOMEN 
FOLK. 

Some Thoughts Concerning Them. A Revised 
Lecture. By Charles F. Rideal, with drawings 
of “Dot” and “Edith Dombey,” by Florence 
Pash. Thiid Edition. Cloth. Twenty-five Cents. 

“A delightful little hook”’— Institute, 

3 


CHARLES DICKENS READER AND RECITER, 
THE. 

For the Home, School and Platform. Compiled 
with an introduction by Charles F. Rideal, Fel- 
low of the Royal Society of Literature. For- 
merly member of the Council of the Lecturers’ 
Institute of Great Britain. Author of “Weller- 
isms,” “Charles Dickens’ Heroines and Women 
Folk,” etc. 


CHURCH WORKER’S BOOK. 

One Thousand Plans. By as Many Successful 
Clergymen and Other Christian Workers. By 
Carlos Martyn. 


CONTINENTAL CAYALIER, A. 

By Kimball Scribner. Author of “The Honor 
of a Princess,” (twenty -third thousand), “The 
Love of the Princess Alice,” (fifteenth thousand), 
and “In the Land of the Loon.” The author 
writes here in his well-known popular style and 
contributes one more (and not the least) to the 
eagerly awaited historic novels of Revolutionary 
times. His characters are resurrections and in 
them the past lives again. Mr. Kimball Scribner 
is rapidly becoming one of the most popular of 
the younger writers of to-day. With four illus- 
trations on copper. Cloth, 13mo. One Dollar. 

CURIOUS CASE OF GENERAL DELANEY SMYTHE, 
THE. 

By W. H. Gardner, Lieutenant-Colonel U. S. A. 
( retired ) . Not in many years has a more interest- 
ing or mysterious story appeared than this. Those 
who follow the fortunes of General Delaney 
Smythe will certainly corroborate this statement. 
The book will have a wide and permanent sale. 
With four illustrations by Miss Lowenstein. 
Cloth. One Dollar. 


4 



THE SALES !.ADY. From *'Some People We Meet 


5 


CROSS OF HONOR, THE 

A Military Dramalette in One Act. By Charles 
F. Rideal and C. Gordon Winter (Jean de Me- 
zailles). Very daintily printed and bound. One 
Dollar 

DANGER SIGNALS FOR NEW CENTURY MAN- 
HOOD. 

By Edward A. Tabor. Is a masterly discussion 
of the dangers that confront the individual as 
well as the society of to-day in the United States. 
It is also a beautiful portraiture of the young 
manhood which should exist in the 20th century. 
Including photograph and biographical sketch of 
the author. 12mo, cloth bound, 316 pages. One 
Dollar. 

DEVOUT BLUEBEARD, A. 

By Marie Graham. This is a keen, satirical story 
which hits off foibles and humbugs in religious 
administration ; not in an infidel spirit, but by a 
friendly hand and from the inside ; one is kept 
guessing who’s who. Cloth 12mo. One Dollar. 

DRY TOAST. 

Some Thoughts upon Some Subjects not generally 
dealt with. By Charles F. Rideal. 

Contents: — A Piece of the Crust; Brains and 
Black Butter; On the Mending of the Bellows; 
On Backbone, or rather the Want of It; Some 
Phases of Modern Honesty ; On Giving Advice — 
and Taking It; Concerning “Hums”; On Flap- 
doodle — the Thick and the Thin ; On Cranks; On 
Pouring Cold Water; On the Art of Making One- 
self Uncomfortable; On Always Doing Some- 
thing; Some of the Advantages of Being Reli- 
gious; On Playing One’s Cards; On Living it 
Down; On Friendship; On Fame, etc. Cloth. 
One Dollar. 

6 




DIRECTORY OF MEDICAL WOMEN, THE. 

Being a List of those Ladies who have Qualified 
in Medicine and Surgery, and who are Officially 
Registered as such, with Statistical and General 
Information of Universities, Colleges, Hospitals, 
etc. 

FROM CLOUDS TO SUNSHINE ; 

or, The Evolution of a Soul, by E. Thomas Kaven. 
Author of “ A Duel of Wits,” etc. Cloth, 12rao, 
200 pages. One Dollar. 

GEMS OF JEWISH ORATORY. 

A selection from the finest specimens of Jewish 
oratory; together with an introduction. By 
Madison C. Peters. Author of “Justice to the 
Jew,” etc. 

GEMS OF JEWISH PROSE. 

A selection from the finest authors of Jewish 
prose ; together with an introduction. By Madi- 
son C. Peters. Author of “Justice to the Jew.” 

GEMS OF JEWISH VERSE. 

A selection from the finest authors of Jewish 
poetry ; together with an introduction. By Madi- 
son C. Peters. Author of “ Justice to the Jew,” 
etc. 

GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD, THE. 

By Henry Drummond. 

HAUNTS OF KIPLING. 

Fully illustrated. A complete history and de- 
scription of all the localities described by Rud- 
yard Kipling in his works. By Margherita 
Arlina Hamm and Charles F. RideaL 

HOUSE OF A TRAITOR, THE. 

By Prosper Merim^e. 

7 



HOW AND WHAT TO WRITE. 

A book for authors ; with some practical hints on 
Journalism; together with a chapter on illus- 
trating for the press. By Charles F. Rideal, Fel- 
low of the Royal Society of Literature. 

HOW SUCCESS IS WON; 

or, the Fight in Life. With Celebrated Illustra- 
tions. Drawn from Life by Carlos Martyn. In 
this book the author has produced a number of 
stirring illustrations written in a style and man- 
ner that command the attention of both the 
young and old. It is an essential book for every- 
body. 

INTELLECTUAL PEOPLE. 

By William Adolphus Clark. Since most readers 
belong to this class, all such will find their linea- 
ments reflected in these pages “as in a looking- 
glass.” Many surprises await those who gaze 
herein ; whether of mortification or of gratifica- 
tion, we must read to see. Cloth, Fifty Cents. 
Japanese paper. Twenty- five Cents. 

INTERNATIONAL DIRECTORY OF AUTHORS, THE. 
With a full list of the titles of their works, dates 
of pubhcation, etc. Compiled and edited by 
Charles F. Rideal. 

LAST OF THE MUSKETEERS. 

A Novel founded on the Romantic Career of 
General de Gallifet, French Minister of War. By 
Carlos Martyn. 

LITERARY LIFE. 

The most popular magazine for authors, publish- 
ers, booksellers and every one interested in liter- 
ature, issued. It is a thoroughly impartial journal, 
readable from cover to cover. Five cents per 
copy or fifty cents per annum, mailed free. 

LITTLE SCARECROW, THE. 

By Maurus Jokai 


9 


ON THE CHARLESTON. 

By Irene Widdemer Hartt. The smell of the sea 
and the odors of the woods and fields of Guam 
are in these pages. The tale sways, like the 
ocean swell, between Jack Tar and the soldiers 
in the Yanko-Spanko War. Cloth, 13mo. One 
Dollar. 

PAIR OF KNAVES AND A FEW TRUMPS, A. 

By M. Douglas Flattery. The literary quality 
of this fascinating novel would alone call atten- 
tion to it. When to this are added plots and 
counterplots, dramatic contests and denofiments, 
the book presents a combination of attractions 
quite unique and irresistible. Mr. Flattery’s books 
are always readable and interesting. Cloth, 
12mo, illustrated. One Dollar. 

PEOPLE AND PROPERTY. 

By Edwin B. Jennings. An animated, logical dis- 
cussion of the question of corporate rights versus 
human rights. Lincoln said that “when a dol- 
lar comes in conflict with a man he sided with 
the man.” This book is timely, able and interest- 
ing. Cloth, Fifty Cents. Japanese paper, 
Twenty-five Cents. 

PEOPLE WE MEET. 

By Charles F. Rideal. Fully illustrated by Harry 
Parkes. Third and Revised Edition. Twenty- 
five Cents. 

“, A collection of characteristic sketches drawn 
with much humor and crisply described.” — 
Scotsman. 

PICTURES FROM A NEW YORK BOARDING 
HOUSE. 

Fully Illustrated. By Charles F. Rideal. One 
Dollar. 

PULPIT ELOQUENCE. 

Characteristic Types, with Brief Prefatory 
Sketches of Illustrious Preachers. By Carlos 
Martyn. 


12 


POCKET ISLAND. 

By Charles Clark Munn. A story of country life 
in New England. A remarkably attractive book 
written in a remarkably attractive manner. With 
frontispiece. Cloth, 12mo, 200 pages. One 
Dollar. 

QUAKER SCOUT, A. 

By N. P. Runyan. The contradictory title 
adopted by Mr. Runyan piques curiosity, which, 
upon investigation, will be abundantly rewarded. 
Incidents without number succeed one another 
in rapid and romantic succession, making the 
reader hold his breath and pant in sympathy 
with the recital. Cloth, §1.25. 

RIDEAL’S ELOCUTIONIST. 

A Book of Readings and Recitations for the 
Home, School and Platform. Selected and ar- 
ranged, together with a chapter on Reading and 
Speaking, by Charles F. Rideal, '^Fellow of the 
Royal Society of Literature, and formerly a 
member of the Council of the Lecturers’ Institute 
of Great Britain. 

SERMONIC SILHOUETTES. 

Three Hundred Outlines of Sermons by Three 
Hundred Distin^ished Clergymen on Various 
Themes. With index. By Carlos Martyn. 

SLAVEHOLDER’S DAUGHTER, A. 

Full of Southern life and character, and readable 
from cover to cover. By Belle Kearney. With 
11 full-page illustrations and frontispiece. Cloth, 
12mo, 270 pages. One Dollar. 

SOCIAL SINNERS. 

A realistic novel of to-day. By Emile A. Palier. 
Portrays a number of Sinners and a few Saints 
in the modern social order. Certain passages 
hold the reader spellbound. There are several 
heroes and heroines, all true to life after their 
respective kind. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. 

13 


TEMPER CURE, THE. 

By Stanley Edwards Johnson. In the guise of a 
novel, the author gives a fanciful account of a 
cure for bad temper. There are no dull pages in 
this book. Cloth, Fifty Cents. Japanese paper. 
Twenty-five Cents. , 

TEN YEARS IN COSSACK SLAVERY. 

By Mary De. Mankowski. This is a graphic, 
thrilling description of the personal experiences 
of a patriotic Pole, condemned to Siberia for 
loving his country “ not wisely but too well.” 
The book explains the existing hatred of the 
Russian government and gives the reasons there- 
fore. Cloth. §1.25 

VENGEANCE OF THE MOB, THE. 

By Sam A. Hamilton. An exciting story of 
Florida, in which the characteristics and the 
effects of “Judge Lynch’s” rule are exploited. 
A thrilling love story runs through the novel, 
with which the vengeance of the mob conies into 
collision. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. u 

WELLERISMS 

from “Pickwick” and “Master Humphrey’s 
Clock.” Selected by Charles F. Rideal and edited 
with an introduction by Charles Kent, Author of 
*iThe Humor and Pathos of Charles Dickens.” 
Fourth Edition. With a new and original draw- 
ing, by George Cruikshank, Jr., of Mr. Samuel 
Weller. Cloth. One Dollar. 

This book has met with remarkable success. The 
original drawing of Sam Weller, by George 
Cruikshank, Jr. (a nephew of the original Craik- 
shank), is alone worth the money, for the reason 
that it shows a mastery of fine work and detail, 
in pen and ink not possessed by any other artist 
of the time. It is a unique and acceptable addi- 
tion to Dickensiana and every lover and admirer 
^ of Charles Dickens should possess a copy, 

14 


WHEN AT HOME AND SOCIETY GUIDE. 

I Giving Days 'svhen“At Home” of the Upper 
Classes. Compiled and edited by Charles F. 
Eideal. To which is added a chapter on the 
Etiquette of Calls and Calling. By Lady Con- 
stance Howard. Each Season. 

WIDOWS WE MEET. 

Twelve of Them. Brief, pithy characterizations 
by Charles F. Eideal. Fully illustrated. 

YOUNG GENTLEMEN OF TO-DAY. 

Eighteen of Them. By Charles F. Eideal. Fully 
illustrated. 

ZENITH MEMO-PAD, THE. 

Designed by Lady Constance Howard and Mr. 
Charles F. Eideal. Containing Seven-day Tear- 
off Sheets and Cover, in convenient form either for 
laying flat on the desk, or suspending from rack, 
etc., a Complete Calendar for the Year, Postal 
Information, Chief Events, Lessons for Sundays, 
Quotations from well-known Authors, and Spaces 
for Memoranda, Appointments, etc. Indispens- 
able for every one who writes, makes notes, etc. 
Twenty-five Cents. 

“ This useful addition to the writing table is nicely 
got up.” — Princess. 

Is very well arranged, with suitable quotations 
and memoranda for every day in the year. It 
may be kept on the table or suspended against 
the wall or bookshelf, whichever may be most 
convenient, and in either position it is handy, and 
takes up but a small amount of space.” — Queen. 


15 


INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHT SECURED 




THE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY THE 

JIbbcy Press are offered for 

SALE THROUGH ITS AGENTS IN 
MEXICO, CANADA, GREAT BRIT- 
AIN, CAPE TOWN, PARIS, BERLIN, 
MELBOURNE, CALCUTTA, AND TO 
THE CHIEF BOOK STORES AND 
DISTRIBUTORS, AND CONTROLL- 
ERS OF BOOKSTANDS, RAILWAY 
AND HOTEL STANDS IN THE 
UNITED STATES ; : : : 


FINE PRINTING AND DAINTY BINDING 


16 




^U'3 4 1900 







Jbbiweepe 

PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, 
. ^ 111 Thomson Park Drive 

A/ 3 Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 
’ (412)779-2111 






